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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762622">The Weight of Silence</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles'>jscribbles</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heaven Saga (Post-15.20 Canon-Compliant Series) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Supernatural</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>15.20 coda, 15.20 fix it, Canon Compliant, Cas builds a house, Dean Winchester Has Abandonment Issues, Dean Winchester Has Self-Worth Issues, Dean Winchester is Bad at Feelings, Dean isn't happy in Heaven at first, Fix-It, Happy Ending, Heaven, Love Confessions, M/M, Miracle the dog loves Castiel more, Paradise, Romance, Sam's Blurry Wife is replaced with Eileen as it should be, Smut, mentions of John Winchester's past neglect and past instances of hitting his kids, these tags make this fic sound depressing as fuck but its a happy fix it, they play DnD in Heaven</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>Completed</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-11-29</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-10 22:14:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Explicit</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>26,077</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/27762622</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/jscribbles/pseuds/jscribbles</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>The weight of silence is heavy on Dean's shoulders as he learns to live a new kind of life in Heaven. In classic Winchester-style, despite being in a place that isn't supposed to have pain and suffering, Dean rebels against it by being straight-up fucking miserable.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>Castiel/Dean Winchester, Eileen Leahy/Sam Winchester</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series:</b></td><td>The Heaven Saga (Post-15.20 Canon-Compliant Series) [1]</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Series URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/series/2030920</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>158</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>804</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>SPN Finale "Destiel is CANON" Collection, The Destiel Fan Survey Favs Collection</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Loving Himself Instead</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>Thank you to Waywardjenn, EllenofOz, and Lanaserra for the beta!</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>On the car ride back to the Roadhouse, Sam told Dean all about his life. </p><p>“You named your kid ‘Dean’?!” Dean howled, coughing on the dust pulled up off the road in clouds as the Impala came to a stop in front of the bar. “Dude.”</p><p>Sam, his dimples deep as he grinned, leaned over and punched his brother in the shoulder. “Shut the fuck up!”</p><p>“You might as well have named him ‘Albus Severus’,” Dean wheezed, throwing Baby into park.</p><p>“Oh my god,” Sam laughed into his hands. “I hate you.”</p><p>“I’m telling everyone, please let me tell everyone,” Dean pleaded gleefully as he wrenched open the door and exited the vehicle, swinging his keys around his fingers. “Bobby is gonna piss himself laughing.”</p><p>“That’s your nephew! My <em> son!</em>” Sam barked out after him, slamming the door behind him and waving the dust away from his face—okay, Dean could’ve been more delicate parking his car, but he’d kind of been busy cackling. “Have some respect!”</p><p>Dean climbed the steps to the bar, noticing Bobby’s seat was empty. His chest hummed happily at the sounds of a full room just through the doorway. He looked over his shoulder at Sam and pointed. “When that kid gets up here, we’re negotiating a new name, because there can only be one of us.”</p><p>Sam rolled his eyes but the bitch face faltered as he climbed up the steps and Dean clapped him on the back. “I’m <em> kidding." </em>Dean snorted, tucking his keys into his pocket. “S’fucking precious is what it is. You miss me, Sammy?”</p><p>“I did at first,” Sam retorted with a smirk. “But then I made a replacement and named him after you.”</p><p>Dean reacted by shoving Sam through the door, ruffling his hair along the way. The Roadhouse doors swung open and they were hit with a wall of cheers. Dean’s breath was knocked from his lungs and his eyes immediately began stinging as he looked around.</p><p>Crowded in every corner of the bar were friends, family. People who’d helped them along the way, people who they’d helped. Lives they’d saved, loved ones they’d lost. Allies and enemies turned allies. Humans, old monster buddies, old friends from way back when. </p><p>Mom and Dad got up from their seats, their fingers intertwined. John looked young and happy, his cheeks round and dimpled like from the photos Dean had seen in his house as a child. Mary looked youthful and joyous too, her hair long and curly, thrown up in a ponytail, her wavy fringe cascading around her grinning face. He saw her mouth "Dean", and her eyes drift over to Sam. “My babies,” she laughed, bringing her hand to her mouth in a watery chuckle.</p><p>“‘Bout time,” Ellen called from the bar, holding up a half-finished, foaming pint. </p><p>Jo’s arm snapped back and she sunk the 8-ball into a pocket that Ash was balancing his crotch over. “Just in time, losers. I was getting tired of kicking Ash’s ass over and over again.”</p><p>Ash flipped his mullet over his shoulder and hissed, “The defeat hurts every time like a swift kick to the taint.”</p><p>The bar erupted in cheers again as the boys moved into the bar. They’d taken two awe-struck steps in before Dean had an armful of his mom, and Sam let himself be pulled into a hug by John. If it wasn’t already confirmed they were dead, this moment alone would make him wonder if they were in Heaven.</p><p>Their parents switched and Dean found himself staring at his dad, who had his hands on Dean’s cheeks, his brown eyes watery. “Hello, son,” John said raspily, his dry lips spread into a grin. “Been waitin’ for you. Welcome home.”</p><p>Over the years, Dean had often fantasized about the things he’d say to his dad, and they’d always been angry, accusing, hurt-filled admissions of resentment. He wanted his dad to know about the things he’d done—or not done—that had left hundreds upon thousands of scars on Dean’s heart. John Winchester’s rage, neglect, and vengeance had left Dean feeling like he’d never be enough, like he’d never amount to anything. His father had piled every responsibility not suited for a child onto Dean’s shoulders, and had blamed Dean for every mistake, and every problem in their lives until the self-hatred had seeped into his bloodstream, where he thought he’d never escape his father’s disappointment. Even now, even here, in Heaven. </p><p>But nothing came to him in the moment.</p><p>They were dead. They were in Heaven. Together.</p><p>Dean would say those things to him one day, one day soon. John Winchester would have to sit, shut up, and take the brunt of Dean’s pain and he’d have to fucking swallow it. </p><p>But not now.</p><p>“Dad,” Dean breathed, his eyes wet, his cheeks tickled under tears that snaked down his cheeks. “I can’t believe it’s you.”</p><p>“Can’t believe I made it up here either,” John muttered, snorting. He shrugged.</p><p>“I missed you,” Dean managed. His breath hitched when his dad pulled him in for a hug, a hug Dean had been wanting to get from his father for over thirty years. It was warm and true—his dad squeezed him so hard he thought he’d break and all the resentment Dean held inside would tumble out through the cracks, onto the ground.</p><p>“I love you, Mom. I love you, I love you—” Sam was sobbing into Mary’s shoulder.</p><p>“Y’all gonna keep being all weepy and shit? We’ve been nursing these beers for a cheers,” Rufus yelled from his stool at the bar. He raised his beer and waggled it in the air. “I’m <em> thirsty!” </em></p><p>John and Mary released their children and stepped aside. Dean and Sam barely got a moment to breathe before hands were pulling them towards a table. </p><p>Dean sat down between Rufus and Pamela (who could not only see again, but also managed to check him out  and send him a pervy wink) and accepted a beer from Bobby. </p><p>“Welcome home, boys!” Ellen yelled.</p><p>Glasses raised, people cheered, whooped, hollered, and whistled. Zeppelin played from a jukebox in the corner. Sam laughed tearily, and Dean looked around in awe, taking in all of the faces of people his heart had ached for, for too long.</p><p>Charlie. Dorothy. Kevin. Channing. Adam. Lee.</p><p>Grandma Deanna. Adam. Henry. Gwen. Ketch.</p><p>Sarah. Madison. Victor. Andy. Jessica.</p><p>Maggie. Tara. Becky. All of the apocalypse friends that Michael had left strewn across the bunker floor; they were here.</p><p>There were even monsters and, hell, <em> demons— </em>ones that had fought by their side. Perhaps Cas and Jack had made an exception for them: Meg. Benny. Lenore.</p><p>Even the fucking archangels were hanging out. Gabriel. Michael, wearing Adam. Balthazar. Gadreel. Hannah.</p><p>While most people clinked glasses (“To the Winchesters!”), Sam allowed himself to be enveloped in a bear hug by Kevin, who had thankfully been saved (Dean suspected Cas had something to do with that), and Ash, who noogied him beyond the appropriate threshold.</p><p>Dean accepted a hug from Jo, who rolled her eyes and muttered, “All right, bring it in, dork”, and grinned as Ellen placed a gruff kiss on the side of his head. It was heartwarming to be welcomed by people he’d felt immeasurable guilt for letting down. He felt free from the shame, from the anger. He accepted their forgiveness with ease. With every face that came by to greet him, he felt freer and freer, lighter with absolution—</p><p>But the one person he wanted forgiveness from the most, the one person he wished to see more than his mom, more than his dad, more than all of his friends…</p><p>Dean’s eyes scanned the room over and over while he accepted hugs and clinked glasses with everyone. There were too many people to take in and it was becoming overwhelming—all the familiar scents of these people and the bar—memories were rushing him and Dean almost wished for a moment alone to just look out over the crowd. He wanted to be a fly on the wall to all of this joy—</p><p>Castiel.</p><p>There he was.</p><p>The angel stood at a pub table in the back corner. Tall, slender, his face loose and half-turned away. He wore a blue sweater and beige khakis, his shoulders relaxed, his hand in his pocket. He was talking to a woman that Dean saw in his peripherals, but all Dean could focus on was Cas. </p><p>“‘Scuse me,” he grunted as Henry Winchester shook his hand. </p><p>He felt his mother’s hand on his shoulder, but Dean suddenly had tunnel vision. He squeezed past the apocalypse hunters as they boomed out with laughter at something Maggie whisper-yelled. He set his beer down on the edge of the pool table as Jo lined up her shot again, winking evilly at Meg, who rolled her eyes and popped her gum, leaning jauntily on her pool cue. </p><p>“Sup, Deano?” Meg drawled, pink gum around her tongue as she pulled it back into her mouth.</p><p>Dean grunted at her and moved on, his heart pounding as he stopped at the edge of Cas’ table. His hand reached out—fuck, it was shaking—and wrapped it around Cas’ shoulder.</p><p>Jimmy turned his head and smiled, nodding at him. “Hello, Dean.”</p><p>Not Cas.</p><p>Jimmy.</p><p>Voice too high, smile all wrong. Eyes definitely all wrong. Clean-shaven, neat. Smelled like laundry and mid-priced cologne his wife had probably bought him for Christmas.</p><p>Amelia smiled up from her seat. He’d never seen her smile before.</p><p>“We dropped by to say hello,” Jimmy said, patting Dean on the arm. “Heard you and your brother had made it up here. Castiel told me you’ve been keeping an eye on Claire, I heard she’s in college, and doing well. Thank you, Dean.”</p><p>Dean’s face felt numb. </p><p>“No problem, man,” Dean replied on autopilot. For the first time since arriving in Heaven, he felt very much like himself; his chest felt heavy, his lungs unable to get enough oxygen. He felt so low that he was ready for someone to jump out and tell him this was a joke, and this was actually Hell—</p><p>“He’s around here somewhere,” Jimmy said suddenly, his eyes softening at the corners. Dean noticed the crow’s feet weren’t as deep; Jimmy looked as young as the day he died.</p><p>Dean cleared his throat. “What?”</p><p>“Castiel,” Amelia said softly, reaching over and sliding her hand over Dean’s—when had he put that there? Leaning on the surface heavily, for balance. </p><p>Jimmy exchanged looks with his wife and it occurred to Dean—like being hit by a truck—that Jimmy <em> knew</em>. He must’ve known, riding alongside Cas for two years. God, he <em> knew. </em></p><p>“I see him sometimes,” Jimmy explained quietly, nodding his chin out towards the front door. “He visits us. All of us. Him and Jack, the kid. They watch over us, making sure we’re all safe, happy. He says he wants us to feel contentment in paradise, but I think he just wants to make sure all of your friends and family are taken care of.”</p><p><em> For you. </em>It was unspoken but clear as if he’d screamed it.</p><p>“Where is he?” Dean asked flatly, though his voice was rough. </p><p>Amelia glanced up at the ceiling. “Around, mostly. But he has a place by the beach. Tucked into the forest.”</p><p>“He lives somewhere?” Dean asked, blinking in surprise. “Like, a place of his own?”</p><p>“More like his stompin’ grounds,” Ash interrupted, sliding onto a stool beside Jimmy, his beer clunking down on the table. Fiddling around in his shirt pockets, Ash tugged out a matchbook and struck a flame, puffing at a cigarette bobbing on his lips. Taking a drag, he wheezed, “Fucks around on the property, builds shit. You want me to take you ‘round?”</p><p>Despite every instinct screaming “YES!”, Dean felt the heaviness in his chest and succumbed to it. “Nah,” he said after clearing his throat, sliding weakly onto a stool. “Nah...if he wanted to come, he’d come. He probably already knows I’m here.”</p><p>“Fuck yeah he does,” Ash snorted, waving the cigarette around to gesture at the room, pointedly ignoring Amelia’s waving hand and scrunched nose as the smoke wafted in front of her eyes. “Little winged hombre harked the herald all over this shindig to get us all here for your grand entrance.”</p><p>“All he was missing was a little trumpet and a halo,” Meg drawled, sliding onto an empty seat beside Dean and plucking Ash’s cigarette from his mouth. </p><p>“Hey!” Ash scoffed, spreading his hands indignantly. </p><p>“You can’t just walk away from this game, demon!” Jo snapped, waving her pool cue at the table. “You’re not even supposed to <em> be here</em>, so face your fuckin’ maker!”</p><p>“I got connections with <em> El Captain</em>, princess; I don’t gotta do shit,"Meg said loftily, raising a brow and taking a puff, pointing a black-painted fingernail at the billiard table. “And you were cheating.”</p><p>Jo threw her cue down on the table in a huff and snatched up her drink, sweeping away to join Bobby and Rufus in pouring Sam another pint. </p><p>It all felt so real. Dean was really here, really back with all of his friends. His real friends; not ghosts, or memories, or dreams. They were all really here.</p><p>He inhaled the scent of smoke, of cheap beer, of the familiar individual smells of his family. Just in case it would be taken away from him somehow.</p><p>“You could call ‘im,” Ash suggested, shrugging as he plucked another cigarette from his pocket. “Phone lines are a-go. I set up ‘em when Cas and Jack came around to coordinate the real-life-feel up here. That, and the internet, and Google. And porn. So much porn.”</p><p>Exhaling a few smoke rings, Meg nodded, tapping the ash into an empty glass. “You could pray, if you’re feelin’ old school. Jack gave the angels their wings back, so he could flap his ass into the chair beside you in a blink of your heart-shaped eyes.”</p><p>Fuck, did <em> everyone </em>know?</p><p>“No,” Dean murmured. Desperate to change the subject, Dean nodded his chin at Ash. “So, what, Jack and Cas set Heaven up to be like...just like real life? Y’know, on Earth 1?”</p><p>Ash clapped his hand down on the table and jerked his head up and down, his cigarette bobbing precariously. “Sure did. You want a job? We got those. Malls, cities, concerts. There’s an In-N-Out like five minutes up the road. McDonalds is actually <em> delicious </em>up here and Taco Bell doesn’t give you the shits!”</p><p>Jimmy choked on his beer, wiping at his chin with his sleeve. “Good God.”</p><p>Meg grinned. “Yeah, God is good up here too. A little fuckin’ weird, but good. Always has his dumb little hand up like, ‘<em> Oh hello, I’m Jack </em>’, like we don’t know who the fuck he is after he yanked a bunch of us outta the Empty and Hell and that weird Stepford Heaven and plopped us in paradise.”</p><p>“I find him charming,” Amelia said, sitting up straighter and narrowing her eyes at Meg.</p><p>Meg dragged her eyes down Amelia’s form and scowled. “You <em> would </em>, Sweater Vest.”</p><p>“Is this a fight? Are y’all in a fight?” Ash asked, eyes lighting up. “Shit’s been good up here, but it’s been like thirteen years since I seen a good bar fight.”</p><p>“We’re going to get another drink,” Jimmy said abruptly, reaching over and plucking Amelia’s empty glass from her hand, interrupting her from retorting—Dean saw it on her lips, too; a snappy clapback. All of Ash’s jokes aside, he was pretty sure there <em> would </em>be a bar fight in Heaven if someone didn’t step in. </p><p>“You’re on thin ice, demon,” Amelia muttered as Jimmy led her from the table and tugged her into the crowd towards the bar. </p><p>Meg turned in her seat and called out, raising her glass, “Can’t wait. Can we make out after?”</p><p>Dean clapped a hand to his mouth to smother the surprised yelp of laughter when Jimmy Novak threw Meg the middle finger and disappeared. “Wow.”</p><p>“I’m starting to really like it up here,” Meg murmured around her curled lips, taking a loud slurp from her drink. “Thought it was kinda quaint and boring and a little <em> too </em>clean at first, but I’m starting to think I can finagle my way into a threesome if I keep it up with those two.”</p><p>Dean scowled, rolling his eyes as he got up from his seat. “Keep dreaming, Meg.”</p><p>But Meg was busy staring hungrily after Jimmy. “Maybe I could convince him to put on a trench coat and growl at me just the way I like it, you know?” She paused, then winked. “<em>You know.” </em></p><p>Dean bared his teeth. “What’s <em> that </em>supposed to mean?”</p><p>Meg slid off her seat and shook her head to throw her curtain of curls over her shoulder. “Like I said before; he was your boyfriend first.”</p><hr/><p>The welcome party was loud, rambunctious. Turned out, getting drunk was a very real thing in Heaven. </p><p>Everyone was pretty smashed by the time the bright blue sky outside turned into the most exquisite dark navy night. Aurora Borealis of green, magenta and blue rippled through the velvety sky, blanketing hundreds of thousands of diamond-like stars that glittered and winked at the occupants of Heaven.</p><p>As much as Dean had wanted to sit his dad down and yell at him about all the wrongs he’d committed against him in his lifetime, John had kind of beat him to it. After hours had passed, the bar smelled like nachos, beer, and was hot like...well, like real life. Dean and Sam were squished into a booth in the corner with John and Mary, Mary listening raptly to Sam tell her about his life, while John hung off Dean, mumbling his regrets drunkenly into Dean’s ear.</p><p>It wasn’t how he’d imagined it, but it was certainly validating to know his dad understood the pain he’d caused. </p><p>“Never… Never thought of you two,” John rambled into his drink, his sweaty bottom lip slipping on the glass as it wobbled a bit, missing its target. “Jus...Just wanted yer mom back, you know? Just m...issed her so much.”</p><p>Understanding the feeling of longing and heartache fuelling irrational behaviour and destructive, piss-poor decision-making, Dean nodded. He understood.</p><p>Because despite saying that he wasn’t going to pray to Cas, Dean had made the mistake of praying to Cas. An hour or so ago, after four tequila shots (thanks to Jo, Ash, and Sam), his stomach had burned and his eyes followed suit. He’d tucked himself away in a bathroom stall—of course Cas and Jack had wanted to replicate Earth so badly that they’d made sure everyone had the most basic human functions intact, nausea and the need to piss included. He’d leaned against the stall wall, trying to see straight, and raised his joined hands together against his forehead in prayer. He’d repeated, <em> “I’m here. I’m finally here. Where are you, man? I thought...you would be here,” </em> to himself until he was blue in the face. </p><p>He’d waited for the flap of wings, for the neat black boots to touchdown on the ceramic floor. He’d waited for the "hello, Dean" on the other side of the door. </p><p>He waited in silence. </p><p>Eventually, he had splashed water on his face and joined his friends again, his heavy, red eyes looking around the room for the head of messy hair and a flash of the beige coat. </p><p>That’d been a while ago, and so far, nothing. </p><p>Dean untangled himself from his dad’s half-hug and patted him on the shoulder, sliding out from the booth. “It’s okay, Dad. We’ll talk soon. You okay?”</p><p>John smiled a watery smile up at him. “Sure, son. Glad you’re here. We g...et to be a f-family now.”</p><p>Mary and Sam wore twin looks of understanding on their faces, a slight wince around their eyes, and Dean simply nodded. He gestured over his shoulder with his thumb. “Gonna grab some fresh air. It’s been a lot.”</p><p>“Yeah, but a good lot. Longest, best day ever,” Sam agreed, misunderstanding. “We’ll be here when you get back.”</p><p>Despite his heartache, Dean felt warm at that and couldn’t help but quirk his lip at his brother. He slid his hands into his pockets and turned away, walking through the crowd to the door. </p><p>On his way out, he bummed a smoke from Ash and shook hands with Victor. As he slid out the door, Pamela pinched his ass.</p><p>He looked up at the sky and tried to smile, his skin still hot and clammy from the humidity in the bar and from the sheer amount of love he’d experienced in the last few hours. Hugs, kisses, people saying nice shit to him that he finally felt he deserved. His chest was simultaneously exploding with affection and acceptance, and also unbearably aching with the understanding that he was missing the key piece of his happiness. </p><p>Then, mid-way through the cigarette in his hand as he exhaled a stream of grey smoke, he heard a flutter of wings. Boots touching down on the rickety bar porch.</p><p>Dean lowered the cigarette and pushed off the supporting beam he’d been leaning on. He slowly turned, and—</p><p>“Jack,” Dean breathed, startled.</p><p>Jack’s hand came up in his signature wave and the new God grinned, all toothy, with eyes glittering excitedly. “Dean! Hello!”</p><p>Dean wanted to rush forward and embrace him, but he wasn’t quite sure how to behave around the new God. To his relief, Jack stepped forward and hugged Dean first, all awkward limbs and stiff as usual.</p><p>“I’ve missed you,” Jack said matter-of-factly, pulling away enough to see Dean’s face. “Do you like Heaven, Dean? We changed a whole bunch. No more walls—Castiel said we should remove all barriers, that we should encourage freedom and autonomy. There’s a Chuck-e-Cheese if you drive south on the dirt road there. I—”</p><p>“It’s perfect,” Dean interrupted, chuckling. Fondness washed over him as Jack shrugged proudly; he raised his hand and patted his son on the cheek. “You did us proud, kid. You fucking saved the world.”</p><p>“I’m a Winchester,” Jack replied simply. “It’s what we do, isn’t it?”</p><p>“Sure is.”</p><p>“And we save some people from the Empty, me and Cas,” Jack went on excitedly, stepping back from the hug and gesturing over his shoulder with his thumb. “I went for Castiel and grabbed some people along the way—couldn’t save them all, the Empty was pretty angry, so it was kind of a time-sensitive thing. Anyway, I wasn’t sure about some of the monsters and demons we saved to bring back here, but Castiel told me they have a good heart. Even that Meg.”</p><p>“Cas kinda...had a thing with her,” Dean started to explain before he gave his head a shake. He stepped away to rest his back against the post again and took a drag from his cigarette, staring over his shoulder at the sky.</p><p>“You shouldn’t smoke those,” Jack commented. “They’re bad for your lungs.”</p><p>Dean snorted, exhaling through his nose. He diverted his gaze to the ground, eyeing Jack’s pristine sneakers. “What, they’ll kill me?”</p><p>To his credit, Jack went pink at the ears, despite his godly status. “You’re right. Castiel said we should try to keep Heaven as true to real life as possible, but you can’t die. And if your lungs collapse, they’ll just heal—”</p><p>“You checkin’ up on us, Jack?” Dean looked up, raising a brow.</p><p>“Of course.” Jack shrugged, his dimples deep beside his smile. “I felt you arrive. I wanted to make sure you’re happy with what we did.”</p><p>“Cas helped—” Dean waved his cigarette out at the peaceful night. “He, uh, made this with you?”</p><p>“He was a consultant,” Jack corrected brightly. “I had only visited Heaven a few times before becoming God, and Cas has been God before. When I pulled him and some others from the Empty, he had a lot of ideas. Ideas I liked. And…” Jack chuckled. “He’s my dad. He's supposed to tell me what to do.”</p><p>“Well, you did good.” Dean rolled the filter in his hand, extinguishing the smoke and watching the curls of tobacco flutter to the rickety wooden boards under his feet. “You and...Cas. Do you think he felt me arrive, too?”</p><p>It took guts to ask, for some reason. The beer and tequila helped, but he felt nauseous from the smoking. Or the crushing rejection and heartache—one of those. </p><p>“Oh, Cas? No. He won’t be able to feel you anymore.”</p><p>Dean’s head snapped up and he stared at Jack, who seemed surprised by Dean’s reaction. “What? What do you <em> mean </em>he can’t feel me anymore. Is he—”</p><p>“Human,” Jack said with a tilt of his head and furrowed brows. “He’s human now.”</p><p>Dean stared at him. </p><p>“Human.”</p><p>“Human.”</p><p>Dean’s hand did a vague spiralling motion in the air. “What?”</p><p>Jack just blinked back. “He said his work was finished. He asked me for this.”</p><p>“When?!” Dean burst out, louder than he expected. “Ash a-a-and Jo, and, and fucking <em> Jimmy </em>and Meg—they said, said wings—internet and porn—”</p><p>To his credit, Jack was listening very calmly and intently to Dean’s flustered, senseless rambling, nodding slowly. </p><p>“They said to pray, and I prayed, and—”</p><p>“Ooooh,” Jack said slowly. Dean could practically see the lightbulb go off over the kid—God’s—head. He tapped at the air and grinned again. “I thought it was strange that you were praying to Castiel.”</p><p>“No shit?” Dean snapped, scowling. “When did he become human? Or you turned him human—whatever!”</p><p>Jack lifted his arm and slid back his sleeve, looking at his watch. “Uh, like four, five hours ago? Well, in your perception of time, at least. About twelve seconds ago for me.”</p><p>It was probably not the cutest how Dean’s mouth opened and closed over and over. Eventually, he grunted, “Ash said he organized this whole get-together, welcome-to-paradise shin-dig. So he knows I’m here but didn’t come to, oh, I dunno, say ‘hi’ or some shit?”</p><p>Quite suddenly, Jack seemed like he regretted coming. His smile faded and he pouted his lips, rocking on his heels. “I guess not.”</p><p>“That’s it—” Dean threw his hands up, turning on his heel and stomping down the stairs. “Where does that little fucker live? I’m paying Little Miss Sunshine a visit.”</p><p>For an all-powerful, ethereal, omnipotent God, Jack seemed meek as he called out, “You’re a bit too drunk to drive. I’ll...have to take your keys.”</p><p>Dean spun around, dirt kicking up in puffy clouds around him. He threw his hands out at his sides. “Un-drunk me then! Snap those fingies and let’s get this show on the road.”</p><p>Shuffling on his feet, Jack slid his hands into his pockets. “Castiel said you would want Heaven to feel as authentic as real life, that everyone would want that. It might be an abuse of my powers to just—”</p><p>“JACK!”</p><p>“I’ll drive,” Jack said, sweeping down the stairs with his wings between his legs. </p><hr/><p>Dean arrived at Castiel’s house at...some point in the morning? From what he’d gathered from Ash, he’d thought Cas’ home would’ve been a five-minute drive, but when Jack pulled up to the house in the Impala, the sun was peeking up over the edge of the horizon on the water, and Dean’s mouth tasted like an ashtray.</p><p>“The fuck?” Dean croaked, lifting his head off the window and rubbing at his face. “Did I sleep? Did you...magic the sunrise?”</p><p>Jack giggled beside him, smirking proudly. “No. Well, yes. Sort of. I...encouraged you to sleep with my grace, which you did, about two minutes into the drive. I...left you to sleep.”</p><p>Dean gaped at him. “You left me to fall asleep in the car on the side of the road?”</p><p>Thinking he was being reassuring, Jack turned towards Dean and held up his hands. “Don’t worry! Nothing can harm you up here. And I didn’t mind waiting. It was only about twenty seconds for me.”</p><p>“Why?!” Dean croaked, straightening his clothing and looking around at the forest property and the beach visible through a large parting in the trees. “I told you I wanted to—”</p><p>“Everyone else was having fun,” Jack said happily, his shoulders back and head held proudly. “And Castiel was very clear when he told me I shouldn’t mess with the authenticity of Heaven. No messing with the days or nights. Time bending and heavy alterations—”</p><p>Dean groaned and raised a hand. “Got it. I got it. Authenticity. Can you at least mojo the hangover? That’s a little too authentic for me. I’ve done my time with the hangovers, I kinda figured I could spend the afterlife free of ‘em.”</p><p>It took a moment for Jack to consider it, doing his usual weird parrot head swivel thing before he nodded and reached forward, pressing his fingers to Dean’s forehead. “I suppose that’s okay.”</p><p>The tiredness and ache in his muscles disappeared, and his mouth tasted pleasant and minty. His clothes unrumpled and Dean shifted in his seat, feeling clean and fresh.</p><p>“Awesome,” he chuckled, running his hands over his body. “Thanks, kid.”</p><p>“I’ll work on the hangovers,” Jack nodded, tapping his lip thoughtfully. “Maybe I’ll remove them altogether.”</p><p>“Yeah, I’d put those right on the cutting room floor. If I can all-you-can-eat Taco Bell without blowing up my whole asshole up here, I wanna be able to drink without feeling like I want to die all over again. I’ll take another piece of rebar over my worst hangover.”</p><p>“I...will take note.”</p><p>“Yeah.” Dean pushed open the door with a grunt. “Put it on a sticky note.”</p><p>When he stood up straight, giving his legs a stretch, Dean leaned down to say goodbye, but Jack was gone. The pine air freshener on the rearview swung gently.</p><p>With that, Dean stood back up and turned around, nerves replacing the hangover in his limbs, making him feel alert, anxious… He had no idea what to expect, so he started walking.</p><p>The house was pretty fucking quaint. A two-story, spacious cabin-type home with a porch that wrapped around the main floor. There were wind chimes dangling off the eavestrough and chairs on the veranda. Dean walked through rows of boxed gardens with vegetables growing lushly in the dirt and coiled around coned cages. Plump, juicy tomatoes sat comfy in the middle of weaving vines and vibrant orange carrots poked their heads out from the dirt. The grass was green where there wasn’t a dusty path cutting through. Dean noticed stone piled against the house in flat slabs with a wheelbarrow and some two-by-fours. He immediately noticed another path, half-done leading from the road to the house, like someone had been in the middle of paving a walkway. </p><p>There was a light inside, warm and flickering like a lit fireplace. Cas <em> would </em> be the type of freakin’ human to have a fireplace.</p><p>Dean saw the shadow of movement through the curtains and had to stop. </p><p>He bent over and put his hands on his knees, inhaling deeply, squeezing his eyes shut. He wanted so badly to get here, so badly to talk to Cas again but he had no idea what he was going to say. Rather, he knew of all the things he wanted to say but he’d never thought he would say that out loud in a million years. Never thought he’d get the chance.</p><p>Before Castiel’s admission—before he told him all of those amazing things about how he saw Dean, about how everyone saw Dean, how he loved Dean—Dean kinda figured his own confession would come out in a burst of anger. He’d scream it at Cas while blaming him for something, it would emerge in an explosion against his will, because he’d have no choice.</p><p>Now he had all the choice, and very little anger, and Castiel, turns out, was to blame for absolutely nothing. </p><p>This was all on Dean, and he was making this choice because he was free to do so. He could turn around and walk away and not have to do this, but he fucking wanted to.</p><p>But what did he say?</p><p>
  <em> BARK!  </em>
</p><p>Dean lifted his head, his face draining. </p><p>
  <em> BARK! BARK!  </em>
</p><p>“Miracle?!” Dean exclaimed, yanking his hands off his knees to hold his arms out, his fingers spread.</p><p>The big poofy idiot of a dog was running at him full-tilt from the house. Miracle launched himself off the porch, missing all the steps entirely, and scuttled over the grass before jumping into Dean’s waiting arms.</p><p>Dean groaned happily, squeezing the dog against him, pressing his cheek to the dog’s head as the mutt whined and sung happily into his shoulder, squirming and wriggling to get access to his face. Dean found himself laughing as he was pushed backwards onto his ass and had to duck his face to avoid the sloppy, droolly kisses Miracle was trying to plant all over his face. </p><p>“Oh, you big goof,” Dean chuckled happily, scratching behind the mutt’s floppy ears. “I missed you and I’ve only been away from you for a freakin’ day.”</p><p>“BARK!”</p><p>“Yeah, yeah, you love me too, I know, I…”</p><p>The dog ducked out of his hands and ran back towards the house, leaving Dean sitting on his ass. His gaze followed the pup as he rushed back up onto the porch, but Dean forgot all about Miracle when he saw Castiel standing at the top of the stairs.</p><p>He was in his usual slacks and white shirt, the sleeves rolled up around his forearms. Cas’ tie was askew as always, and his hair a bit of a mess, but Cas’ face was spread in a smile. Easy, happy, free.</p><p>“Dean,” Cas said, tugging his hands from his pockets and walking slowly down the stairs, his eyes glittering. “I heard you had arrived.”</p><p>Heard you had arrived. <em> Heard you had arrived,</em> as if the fucking idiot hadn’t hung the streamers and blown up the balloons at the welcome party himself.</p><p>Dean waited for the anger about that to rise up in his chest, but it didn’t, to his surprise. Instead, he gathered himself off the dirt and walked towards Cas while rubbing dirt off his hands, then brushing it off the seat of his pants. </p><p>“Cas,” Dean replied, sounding a bit winded. “Dude.”</p><p>Cas stopped walking and just shrugged, his smile crooked, a sneak peek of teeth between his lips. “Hello.”</p><p>Silly, Dean immediately recalled Hermione launching a fistful of leaves at Ron, and shrieking, <em> “Hello?! You disappear after weeks and all you say is ‘hello’?” </em>He usually identified with Harry or Ron, ‘cause after all, he and Sam had a reputation of running head-first into dangerous situations with no plan, big egos, and a deathwish. But he got Hermione in this situation; if there were leaves on the ground, he might’ve considered launching them at Cas too, right in his big stupid face.</p><p>Instead of leaves, though, Dean launched <em> himself </em> at Cas, and threw his arms around the man’s shoulders, squeezing him for dear life—or death, in this case.</p><p>“Hello, Dean,” Castiel choked out, his voice strained—Dean was kind of squishing him. His hands came up though, and he patted Dean on the back. “Welcome to Heaven. Y-You’re earlier than I’d anticipated.”</p><p>“No shit,” Dean laughed into the stiff cotton of Cas’ white shirt. He knew he should let go or back off, but he just clung to him, his fists gripping the fabric so hard he was sure it would rip. “I lasted like two weeks after you saved my ass.”</p><p>“How did you die?”</p><p>Embarrassing. “Uh, got stabbed.”</p><p>“At least you died in battle,” Castiel said with a huffy laugh. “Like you always wanted. A blaze of glory, and other silly notions.”</p><p>He should correct him. He really should. Cas died to save Dean’s life; he deserved to know Dean died because of an overlooked, faulty structural issue. </p><p>...maybe Cas didn’t <em> have </em> to know.</p><p>“Don’t matter,” Dean said gruffly, inhaling the smell of Cas—lemons, cinnamon, rain, lightning—and was suddenly hit with a brick wall of emotions. His chin trembled and he whispered, “Don’t matter, I’m here now. S’all that matters.”</p><p>“It is,” Castiel agreed, his eyes soft, sweeping across Dean’s face...almost as if he didn’t believe he was there, or was convinced that he’d leave somehow.</p><p><em> You don’t have to memorize me, </em> Dean wanted to say. <em> I’m here to stay. </em></p><p>“You got some time to talk?” Dean rasped, despite clearing his throat first, trying to dissolve the lump that had formed there since he inhaled that familiar scent of Cas’ shirt, of his skin, his hair, of home.</p><p>Castiel looked around with amusement, gesturing vaguely at the trees—such a loose, human gesture. “We’re in Paradise, Dean. We have nothing but time.”</p><p>Something about that, something about the way he said that made Dean feel breathless and made his legs numb, and he wanted to sit but—</p><p>“We could take a walk, if you’d like,” Castiel went on, gesturing through the trees. “The sunrise is beautiful on the water. It’s why I chose this piece of land.”</p><p>Dean stepped back, cold where Cas’ hands used to be, even though it was warm out. He scratched at his cheek and nodded. “Sure.”</p><p>“I’m sure the dog would like to come, too,” Castiel pointed out, patting at his leg to call the excited mutt, who was sniffing around the garden. </p><p>“Miracle,” Dean said, following Cas as he began walking towards the beach. “That’s the dog’s name. Used to be my dog. And, well, I guess Sam’s after I bit the dust. You could call him Miri for short, I guess. I’m glad you found him, the pup’s got separation anxiety since the whole, y’know, brief but fucked up annihilation of all living things.”</p><p>He was ranting. Cas smiled at him over his shoulder, scratching Miracle on the head as he bounced up to lick at his fingers. “Yes, Jack told me as much as soon as the animal landed here—sometime between your death and Sam’s. It’s only been a day or so, but he’s settled quite nicely in this home. Eats my cherry tomatoes right off the vine, though. It’s probably for the best; they grow like weeds and I can’t keep up.”</p><p>Dean realized immediately that Cas was rambling too, a trait that was strange and dorky and unlike him, but so was the slightly wet hair from a shower that Dean noticed now that Cas’ back was turned to him. </p><p>“So, human, huh?”</p><p>They fell into step with each other, their boots grinding into the fluffy sand, shoulders bumping as they navigated the soft terrain.</p><p>“Yes,” Castiel said, smiling at Miracle, who was chest-deep in the water, jumping against the soft waves. “After I felt happiness for the first time and summoned the Empty—and then was rescued—I decided once I played my role entirely, I’d retire. Be happy full-time.”</p><p>
  <em> I think I know now; happiness isn’t in the having, it’s just being. Just saying it. </em>
</p><p>“You deserve to be happy,” Dean agreed, still finding it weird to talk about emotions and have the words be entirely true. </p><p>The beach stretched out in front of them so far that Dean could hardly see the end, though he noticed enormous cliffs at the far end, forest hugging the shore tighter and tighter as the mountains towered in the distance. </p><p>“I do,” Castiel agreed, smiling loosely, the wrinkles around his eyes crinkling. Dean dared look down to take in the ease of Cas’ stride and the very human way he held himself; hands in his pockets, shirt untucked and puddling around his wrists. </p><p>“I’ve been an angel for eons,” Cas murmured, his nostrils flaring as a warm breeze came in from the water, saltiness filling their noses. Were they on an <em> actual </em> ocean? “I’ve been many things, including God, and was disastrously terrible at it. I finally have a choice to be free, I am finally no longer captive to fate or destiny, and I wish to live simply now. I wish to live as myself now. Just me.” Castiel looked over at Dean, his lips pursed into a tight smile. “Just me in this body without the noise, without angels whispering in my ears, and celestial duty humming in my veins.”</p><p>Dean wished so badly to reach out and take Cas’ hand, to feel the human heartbeat in his wrist. </p><p>“I get it,” Dean said. “Up here, it feels uncomplicated. Shit’s just easy. No pain, no terror. Just livin’. It’s nice. I get why you wanted to retire here.”</p><p>Cas was quiet for a beat too long. Dean looked over at him and scowled, but didn’t push. </p><p>Eventually, Cas spoke. “I could’ve retired on Earth. Jack pulled me out of the Empty and asked me what I wanted to do. But..there was nothing on Earth for me.”</p><p>Sam was alive. He could’ve gone to earth to watch over Sam. Eileen. Apocalypse Charlie. Their friends…</p><p>But Dean wasn’t there.</p><p>
  <em> I did all of it, for you. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> I love you, Dean. </em>
</p><p>
  <em> You’ve changed me. </em>
</p><p>“Glad you chose up here,” Dean choked out gruffly, before he rubbed his lips with his hand and cleared his throat. “What happened with the Empty anyway?”</p><p>“Well—” Cas’ shoulders tensed and Dean saw his hands roll in his pockets. “It was nothing but terror and pain. I relived every regret I’ve ever had, watched my mistakes play out before my eyes like a television show. Nothing I could do stopped it. I screamed, closed my eyes, plugged my ears… Nothing worked. The Shadow found pleasure in its attempts to drive me mad.”</p><p>“How long were you in there?” Dean breathed, horrified.</p><p>Cas tilted his head thoughtfully. “I’m unsure. Like in Heaven, time passes differently in that void space. It felt like an eternity. Longer than I’d ever spent on earth.”</p><p>“And Jack saved you?” Dean asked. “How soon?”</p><p>Cas shrugged again, rolling his gaze over to Dean in a frankly adorable turn of his head. “Shortly after returning the Earth to its former state. He said he wanted to achieve balance, and he thought saving me from Empty was the first step. He tried to save all the others, but the Empty was furious. I witnessed him send most of the demons to Hell; I think with Rowena at the helm, he feels peace in that decision. We tried to save the angels next, but that’s when the Empty had caught on. We prioritized the ones we knew. We had to get out. Jack is God, but he’s much too junior; the Empty is an old cosmic being. We were unsure what would happen if the Empty became, well, empty.”</p><p>“I noticed you reserved a seat up here for Meg,” Dean muttered, raising his brows at Cas. </p><p>To his credit, Cas blushed, dragging his teeth over his bottom lip and looking anywhere but Dean. “She got ‘a pass’.”</p><p>“Playing tonsil hockey with God’s dad earns a girl some privileges, I guess.”</p><p>Adorably, Cas blinked under furrowed brows. “I never played hockey with Meg.”</p><p>Dean tilted his head back to stare at the orange sky and bit back a groan. “It means kissing, Cas.”</p><p>Cas scowled grumpily, kicking a twig into the water. “She helped us numerous times on our missions. She sacrificed herself to save Sam, you told me so yourself. I think that deserves a ticket to paradise, thorns and all.</p><p>“We made a stop in Purgatory, and I did insist we bring Benny here, too,” Cas added in a mutter, glaring pissily at the ocean. “You’re welcome for that.”</p><p>“I appreciate you raising my buddies from Hell and the Purg to populate my Heaven, Cas. I ain’t ungrateful.”</p><p>Castiel laughed, a sound that surprised Dean.</p><p>“What?” Dean whined, smacking Cas on the arm.</p><p>Cas rubbed at his bicep—oops, that probably hurt now. “This isn’t <em> your </em>Heaven, Dean. This is everyone's Heaven.”</p><p>Okay, that was a weird plot twist. Dean stared around at the landscape, at the mountains, and the lush forest, and the ocean; his ideal paradise. Fishing, nature, his friends, his favourite bar—</p><p>“Everyone’s?” Dean asked in disbelief, his voice high. “What do you mean?”</p><p>“Jack tore down the walls, Dean. No more individual Heavens; just a shared paradise. Life with only joy and limited pain. An authentic life, not a—how did you always put it—'a Stepford Heaven'.”</p><p>Dean’s brain was cramping just trying to figure out the logistics of it all, so instead he muttered under his breath, “Explains why Jimmy Novak was hangin’ out at the Roadhouse.”</p><p>Cas rolled his eyes.</p><p>“That dude nearly gave me a heart attack. Made me look like a real idiot. I stumbled over there thinking it was you,” Dean said conversationally with a laugh in his voice, before he realized what he was implying. He hesitated and lowered his eyes, feeling his face get hot.</p><p>Cas was watching him. He could <em> feel </em> it.</p><p>“Quit it,” Dean muttered.</p><p>Cas looked away. Dean felt that too, the side of his face cold suddenly.</p><p>“I’m sorry I missed your arrival,” Castiel said quietly. “I should’ve been there.”</p><p><em> Yeah, you fuckin’ should’ve</em>, Dean thought impulsively. Thankfully, a good friend of his taught him that he wasn’t just rage and angry outbursts, so Dean simply asked, “Why weren’t you there, man?” </p><p>The sand stopped crunching under their boots when Castiel stopped abruptly. Dean had to catch himself mid-step and turn around to face him. </p><p>Cas was licking his lips, squinting a bit at Dean, but not in confusion. He was wincing. </p><p>“I was getting settled in my humanity. Jack had just removed my grace and I...wanted to be alone in the house to recalibrate who I was.”</p><p>Dean scowled, pointing over Cas’ shoulder to the cabin they’d left in their wake. “What’d you do that was so important?”</p><p>Seemingly taken aback, Cas opened and closed his mouth, a bit lost for words. Painfully, Dean recalled that facial expression from when he’d accused Cas of always being the source of their failures. </p><p>“I...lit a fire. Ate. Changed my clothes. Took a shower.”</p><p>“You skipped my arrival to Heaven to <em> take a shower </em>?”</p><p>“You make it sound very vapid, Dean.”</p><p>Okay, maybe anger was kind of still Dean’s thing. Old habits die hard. He narrowed his eyes and snapped, “Dude, that sucks! Do you know how fucking hurtful that shit was? I turned up, found out you were bumbling around this freakin’ place and couldn’t show your face to say ‘hi’? ‘I’m alive’? ‘Look at this shit I built’? ‘Hey, the Empty let my ass go’? ‘I’m okay, stop worrying about me’?”</p><p>Cas seemed a bit fired up, too, his nostrils flaring. If Dean didn’t know Cas was a human now, he’d expect grace to flare up behind his eyes. But instead, Cas shrugged his shoulders for the millionth time, his arms wobbling out at his sides as his hands balled in his trouser pockets. “I didn’t know if I’d be welcome. Wanted.”</p><p>Dean reeled back, taking a step back in the sand. “Why? Why would you <em> ever </em>think that? You’re my best f—”</p><p>“Best friend,” Cas spat bitterly. “I know.”</p><p>They stared at each other. It was entirely clear between the both of them that they’d arrived at the subject they’d both been avoiding since finding each other in Heaven. </p><p>Just like when he’d arrived on Castiel’s property, he was lost on what to say, where to start first.</p><p>Cas took the lead.</p><p>The man licked his dry lips and tugged a hand from his pocket, gesturing vaguely at Dean, his fingers uncurled and loose, but his shoulders tight. Cas’ lips parted and his teeth bared for a moment, pressed together tightly.</p><p>Under his eyes got red and his cheekbones coloured.</p><p>“You didn’t say anything,” Castiel rasped in a way that had nothing to do with his voice and all to do with how the words seemed to burst from him against his volition.</p><p>Ironically, Dean remained silent. Anything from him in that moment would’ve been actual vomit or words he hadn’t thought through enough.</p><p>Cas waited, and Dean saw the hurt sink in deeper as the silent, wordless seconds ticked by, until he couldn’t wait anymore. </p><p>“What I said was true; there is happiness in just saying it and I <em> did </em> experience a moment of true happiness, but truth be told, Dean, the moment was truly, purely <em> just </em> a moment.” Cas raised a finger. “One. One moment. The silence from you that followed extinguished any lingering flame of hope, of joy, and <em> that’s </em>why I chose to become human here. If I couldn’t find love from you, I’d find it within myself. I had to. I have to.</p><p>“So, yes,” Castiel said bluntly, scowling. His hand went back in his pocket. “I <em> showered</em>. Because I wanted to. I knew I’d be happier alone in that house taking care of myself than I would be standing in the face of more silence from you.”</p><p>Dean wanted to die. Again. His mind whirled with a million different things he could say. Nothing felt right, felt monumental enough. He should’ve practiced what to say, come up with something romantic and grand, but all he could feel was huge, immobilizing panic and pain. He was paralyzed.</p><p>Again; old habits die hard. So Dean swallowed his pain and he grunted, “Fine.”</p><p>“Dean—”</p><p>“That’s fine. I get it. Really, I do.”</p><p>Cas had chosen love, and in the end, it was to choose himself, to love himself.</p><p>Who was Dean to get in the way of that? Cas deserved happiness; he’d said it himself.</p><p>With sharp shake of his head, Dean walked past Cas and back to the Impala, wondering what the fuck kind of Heaven this was when, in the end, he got all his lost family and friends back but lost the one friend he’d always yearned for.</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>What'd you think of chapter one? Please leave a comment as you go through, I'd love to hear what y'all think of this version of the end!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. The Home He Built</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“You <em> cook</em>?” Dean asked, his eyes wide in confusion as he sat back from the dinner table and let his dad place food in front of him.</p><p>“What?” John said with a snort, ignoring Mary rolling her eyes behind him from her perch at the head of the table. “You thought I was gonna let your mom make dinner? I know we can’t die in Heaven, but food poisoning ain't the goal either.”</p><p>“Wow, dramatic,” Mary muttered, raising her brows, though her eyes twinkled up at John when he put food in front of her too.</p><p>“Never...had your cooking before,” Sam said to their dad, chuckling a bit with an air of puzzlement, picking up a silver fork with hesitation.</p><p>John leaned on the side of Mary’s chair, scowling at his sons. With a finger pointed at them, he snapped, “I cooked for you. Don’t be dicks.”</p><p>Dean and Sam exchanged looks, and Mary grinned. John didn’t look pleased. “I cooked.”</p><p>“Heating up Hungry Man microwave dinners in motel kitchens don’t really count,” Dean said around a mouthful of mashed potatoes—fuck, either his dad was really was a good cook or food just tasted a million times better in Heaven. Either way, he swallowed quickly, automatic panic sending a jolt down his middle; he’d never really been in the business of mocking his father like that, not like Sam did. </p><p>Ridiculously, he almost added, ‘sir’, at the end, but he swallowed that down with his mouthful.</p><p>“I cooked,” John muttered again, sliding into the chair beside Sam.</p><p>Sam smirked at a forkful of green beans and mouthed, “No, you didn’t” at them before taking a bite.</p><p>“You can’t <em> really </em>get food poisoning up here,” Mary assured them, tucking her napkin onto her lap and shuffling forward towards the table. “Cas and Jack aimed for realism, but it’s Heaven, after all. Gotta have some perks.”</p><p>Stabbing at some boiled carrots, Dean snorted. “Tell that to the hangover I had yesterday.”</p><p>“They go away fast. Drink some Gatorade or hair of the dog and you’ll chin up,” John said, flashing Dean a cheeky smile that Dean could count on one hand he’d ever seen in his life. Happy Dad was weird.</p><p>Sam wiped at his mouth and reached for his water. “So, what is the deal up here? Is it...like, real life? What do you do if you’re not hunting?”</p><p>John scowled down at his food, but Mary shrugged. “Anything you want.”</p><p>There was silence at the table. An old grandfather clock in the corner tick-tick-tick-tick’d loudly.</p><p>“Wow,” Dean said after a minute, “we are so fucked up.”</p><p>Sam grinned around the edge of his glass.</p><p>“You get used to it,” Mary finally said, tapping her fork on the edge of her plate. “It was weird at first, almost boring. But your father and I spent a lot of time together. Just enjoyed getting to know each other all over again—”</p><p>“Yeah, we did,” John said, in an altogether creepy way that made Dean want to pour bleach in his eyes.</p><p>“Fuck, dad!” Sam’s glass clunked hard down onto the table. “Wow, can you never say anything like that ever again?”</p><p>John, in his typical style, looked immediately riled up, but Dean was amused to see his dad’s cheeks tint. “Watch your tone—”</p><p>Mary interrupted. “Pipe down, boys. All three of you.”</p><p>“No sex talk!” Dean barked, his voice tight. “Gross.”</p><p>“<em>Anyway </em>—” Mary stabbed a piece of green bean with too much vigour, splitting it in two, “—you kind of just...do whatever you want. If you can imagine it, you’ve got it. It’s just peace. Happiness, freedom. After the lives we’ve all had, I think we earned it.”</p><p>“Just gotta get used to not fearing for yer damn life all the time,” John said. “Y’don’t shake that off quick at first.”</p><p>“So no monsters,” Dean clarified, pointing at the gun hung over the threshold to the kitchen. </p><p>John snorted, glancing up at it. “That was your mom’s idea.”</p><p>“It’s decoration,” Mary said defensively, licking mashed potato off her wrist.</p><p>“Saw your mom shooting at some pop cans in the backyard with her decoration the other day,” John said to Sam with a smirk. </p><p>Mary flicked a carrot at John, who actually laughed and flung it back. Weird.</p><p>Dean watched, momentarily forgetting about his food. For all the grudges he still kind of harboured against his dad, that shit was heartwarming. It was all he’d wanted for his entire life.  Dean found himself watching his parents get along—alive and safe—with a goofy smile on his face. </p><p>Sam, too, he noticed when he quickly glanced over. </p><p>“All right, kids, settle down,” Dean chuckled. “What else do we do around here?”</p><p>“Movies, concerts, bars,” Mary listed off. “There are restaurants in the city and an amusement park on the water. There’s one ride so tall you’re in the clouds for most of it. I actually started praying to God that I wouldn’t die on it before I realized God was a teenager and I was already dead.”</p><p>“All you can eat wings, burgers, and beer basically anywhere you go,” John offered, shrugging a shoulder.</p><p>“I could live with that,” Dean said, raising his brows. Before he could help himself, he laughed to himself. “Cas’ doing, I’m pretty sure.”</p><p>“They got salads, too,” John added side-long at Sam, who seemed to laugh despite himself.</p><p>Dean watched his dad and brother share an amused look, his heart warmed. Seeing his mom and dad happy together was one thing, but it was a whole other thing for Sam and John to enjoy each other’s company. </p><p>“What do you think will make you happiest, Dean?” Mary asked suddenly, tilting her head and watching him with those perceptive, knowing eyes. </p><p>He felt suddenly very uncomfortable as all gazes turned on him. John’s gaze in particular felt like it bored into him; it felt blasphemous to speak his truth in front of his dad. How ashamed were John Winchester’s eyes going to be when he heard Dean’s mediocre dreams?</p><p>How judgemental would they turn if he knew about Cas? About how Dean really felt…</p><p>“Before I died,” Dean said to his mashed potatoes, his eyes lowered, “I’d been filling out a job application. Isn’t that stupid?”</p><p>No one agreed with him. When he looked up, Mary was swallowing heavily and blinking quickly. John stared at Dean, face unreadable. </p><p>Sam’s chin trembled just a bit, his eyes filled with remembrance.</p><p>“I saw it on your desk,” Sam said quietly, “when I went into your room...after. It was for a gig managing a garage in town. I couldn’t drive by the place for years.”</p><p>“Pretty low pay,” Dean said with a mirthless laugh, picking at his potatoes, creating a groove in the fluffy white meal, until his fork was tapping at the porcelain. “Didn’t have all the stuff for it, thought I might’ve had to take classes or something to get it. Didn’t have any managerial experience, dunno what I was thinking.”</p><p>John went back to his meal and no one said anything for a second. Castiel had been right; silence had a real excruciating way of draining all hope.</p><p>But then; “You coulda done it.”</p><p>Everyone turned to John, who glanced up and did a sweep of the table before he ducked down for another bite, but not before adding, “You’re smart. You can do anything.”</p><p>John wasn’t looking at him and Dean realized it was a mercy, perhaps a purposeful one, because Dean immediately felt tears burning in his eyes. </p><p>“Thanks, sir.”</p><p>John rubbed at his mouth with his napkin and nodded, eyes still downturned. “Don't call me that. I’m your dad, not your boss.”</p><p>Dean stared at his plate, unsure how he was going to eat around the growing lump in his throat. “‘Kay.”</p><p>“Eat your food,” John murmured, finally daring a glance up. “Your friend with the wings and the trench coat hooked me up with a sweet little blue mustang out back, but it makes a fucky little noise when you go ‘round corners too fast.”</p><p>Sam smiled at Dean all watery and Dean was tempted to launch a carrot between his eyes, too.</p><p>“I could take a look at it,” Dean grunted after licking his lips and clearing his throat. He brought a forkful of veggies to his mouth, this time not quite minding as he followed his dad's command.</p><p>“Don’t want you to take a look at it,” John pointed out, raising his brows. “Teach me how to <em> fix </em>that shit, it’s driving me nuts. And next time you see that angel, tell him he doesn’t know shit about cars.”</p><p>Sam and Dean laughed, and Mary’s lips split into a brilliant smile as she gazed lovingly at her husband.</p><p>“Think you can teach me, son?” John asked, his grin crooked. “If y’wanted to?”</p><p>Around the most delicious meal he’d had in his lifetime, Dean nodded and replied, “Be happy to.”</p>
<hr/><p>Dean taught his dad how to fix the mustang. He didn’t scream at him for all the times John had neglected them, yelled at Sam, hit Dean, sent him to a home so that he wasn’t his fucking problem anymore, and expected a nine-year-old to care for a five-year-old.</p><p>He would. He’d yell and scream when the time was right.</p><p>But until then, he taught his dad a couple things. Shyly, at first. John Winchester knew his way around a car; he’d taught Dean everything he knew. Or rather, most of the things he knew. After a while of sun-burning their arms and cheeks under the hot afternoon sun, Dean had given John enough pointers that he figured they’d probably be able to build the car from the ground up if they wanted to.</p><p>They took it for a drive and around those corners; the car simply purred. No more fucky noises. </p><p>John let Dean drive, and he didn’t comment on a damn thing; not about the sharp turns, not about going easy on the gas, or being careful on the transmission. </p><p>John showed him the town nearby, and took him up the mountains, up on the narrow, winding roads up the cliffside. They parked up on a viewpoint, cracked a few beers, and overlooked a valley while John pointed out the big city on the horizon and described everyone’s homes, all their friends and family’s homes. Bobby lived with Karen just down the road from Rufus, and Jo just moved into a cabin beside her parent’s two-story farmhouse. The Roadhouse was always full, and the hunters had a bonfire there every night in the parking lot after the evening poker game or a billiards tournament.</p><p>When they drove back to their house—a replica of Dean’s childhood home in Lawrence—they passed the forested drive that led to Cas’ place.</p><p>Dean pointed it out.</p><p>“Human, huh?” John laughed. “Why in the fuck would you ever want to be human when you could be an angel? Heaven is great, but I dunno if this is worth falling for.”</p><p>“Dude is weird,” Dean replied simply, smirking even though the muscles of his face screamed in protest.</p><p>“Sam was tellin’ me y’all were close.”</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean nodded, pausing to wave at Tara, who was walking her dog along the forest. “Me, Sam, and Cas were close, I guess. Went through a lot of shit—”</p><p>“Nah, I mean you and Cas. Sam said you took it hard when Cas died.”</p><p>Dean pointedly ignored John’s gaze on the side of his face and just flexed his hands around the wheel. “We all did. And what does Sam even know? I didn’t say shit to ‘im.”</p><p>“Yeah, he told us that much.” John sighed. In Dean’s peripherals, he saw him stretch his arms out, his knuckles thumping against the dashboard. “In any case, you could visit him any time. He still got your dog?”</p><p>Miracle. Right. He’d kinda left him with Cas while he’d been busy stomping off in a huff.</p><p>Deflecting, Dean grinned and raised a brow at his father. “You? Worried about a dog? I thought you hated dogs.”</p><p>John rolled his eyes and scowled, relaxing back in his seat. “I ain’t worried about no dog. But it’s Heaven, and I’m willing to try having a dog in the house. God knows you fuckin’ begged for years when you were just a tyke.” John paused, raising a finger warningly. “No dogs on the furniture, you hear me? The second that mutt jumps on my bed, I’m launching it into space.”</p><p>“Deal.” Dean laughed, shaking his head and gazing with humour out at the road. “I’ll pick Miri up after dinner, then.” </p><p>He drove the rest of the way home with his dad, who drummed his fingers on the door frame to AC/DC and sang under his breath. And for the remainder of the ride, Dean didn’t let on that his stomach was in knots. </p><p>He felt like he was picking up his box of CDs from an ex, and he wasn’t sure the feeling was too far off.</p>
<hr/><p>This was stupid. </p><p>Miracle was <em> his </em> dog, Castiel was <em> not </em> his ex. He was in fuckin’ <em> Heaven</em>, shit was supposed to be easy, right? That’s what he’d been told: no hunger, no sickness, no pain. No needless heartache and self-doubt as he stood in front of Castiel’s house (wow, Castiel had a house now), and stared up at it like the front porch was about to spring to life and bite him. </p><p>Eventually, he climbed the steps, ignored how homey and peaceful the veranda was, his idea of a perfectly quaint, welcoming place to rest his ass for the rest of eternity, and knocked on the door.</p><p>Castiel answered too quickly, as if he had been standing there, maybe waiting at the window—maybe he’d seen Dean standing there for far too long on his unfinished walkway? Dean admittedly fumbled his greeting when his eyes swept down over Castiel’s body, taking mental inventory of the jeans, a t-shirt speckled in red dots, and gray plaid shirt. If Dean didn’t know better, he’d accuse Cas of raiding his closet.</p><p>“Hello, Dean.”</p><p>Miracle barked frantically from the back of the house, and zoomed past Castiel’s feet to bounce happily around Dean’s bowed knees. Dean noticed the dog had a weird smear of something red on its head, and from inside the house, he smelled the vague scent of marinara.</p><p>Leaning over to pet his pup and avoid Castiel’s eyes, Dean said, “Sup, Cas?”</p><p>Expecting Cas to purse his lips and exhale heavily, as he normally did when he was peeved post-argument, Dean was surprised to hear contentment in Castiel’s voice when he replied, “I’m making a meal.”</p><p>Dean unfolded himself and stood straight, sliding his hands into his pockets. Recalling the few times he’d bullied Cas into helping cook meals at the bunker, he raised his brows and asked, “A meal? What? You know how to make like one thing.”</p><p>Cas did purse his lips at that, but it was fleeting, because he shrugged, the flannel fluttering around his hips—Dean tried not to focus on that in the absence of a bulky trenchcoat. “I’m trying lasagna.”</p><p>“Lasagna.”</p><p>“Did I say it wrong?”</p><p>Forgetting about the tension-filled interaction he’d pictured in his head the entire drive over, Dean found himself smiling—he was doing that a lot in Heaven, maybe it was part of the whole paradise deal. </p><p>“Nah, you said it fine,” Dean murmured. Lasagna; that explained the saucy smell and the red goo on Miri’s head. “How’s it turning out?”</p><p>Cas lifted his hand, his fingertips red. “It’s messy, but I anticipate it’ll taste fine. I made the sauce from tomatoes in my garden. My first run with the food processor was...chaotic.”</p><p>With a snort, Dean gestured at his shirt. “Explains the Jackson Pollock on your shirt.”</p><p>Cas huffed with faint laughter and had the fucking nerve to smile all small and crooked on one side. Again, Dean recalled the fleetingly few times he’d seen that expression on Cas’ typically solemn face, and ignored the ache in his stomach. </p><p>Unfortunately, the smile faded and Cas shifted on his feet, resting the heel of his palm on the doorframe to avoid spreading sauce further. “What, um—” His tongue darted out over his lips. “—did you come see me for?”</p><p>
  <em> I wanted my dog back. I wanted to see your face, hear your voice. Say I’m sorry, let me try again, get the words right— </em>
</p><p><em> “ </em>Is a slice of the lasagna not a good enough reason?” Dean flashed Cas a grin and a wink. “I can make something else up, if not.”</p><p>Cas tilted his head, eyes narrowing. “You didn’t know…” Then, he took his weight off the doorframe and pointed over his shoulder, blinking the squint away. “Come in.”</p><p>A weird fluttering sensation occupied the cavity of Dean’s chest, something very much akin to the feeling of a first date, of meeting a partner’s parents, of having sex for the first time. He put his hands in his pockets again because his palms felt tingly.</p><p>“Thanks,” he grunted as he walked past Cas, entering the home.</p><p>For some stupid fucking reason, he felt a bit breathless looking around. The home was...well, home. He felt immediately like he’d been here before—or rather, his heart decided he had been, like this was where it lived, where it felt familiar. </p><p>The rooms were bright, the windows were large. To his left was an old, sturdy staircase leading upstairs, the dark bannisters looked well-loved and heavily used, worn a bit at the round knobs like a family had been using it as leverage for years. There were popcorn ceilings and dark trim around the wide threshold to the modestly sized living room to his right. He walked in uninvited, inhaling the smell of cooking lasagna, the scent of basil warming his stomach and making his mouth water. As he paced behind a lumpy, worn couch he noted a blanket mussed on the cushions like Cas had fallen asleep there, reading one of the library books laid faced down on a wide coffee table in front of the fireplace. </p><p>He knew Cas couldn’t have already lived in a lifetime in the place, but it looked like it; the bookshelves were filled with old VHS tapes and DVDs, and books of all shapes and genres—Vonnegut, Margaret Atwood, Gaiman, Pratchett, Mitchell, Bronte, Orwell, the works. </p><p>Dean’s heart squeezed a bit at the frames on the walls; he saw his own face, and Sam’s, and Jack’s. Mary, Kevin, Charlie, Bobby. They were pictures from their real life, ones taken on phones Cas hadn’t ever had access to, but had been there to photograph or be photographed. </p><p>He saw a lot of his own face. Dean had to look away from those; the idea of Cas putting those up, after saying what he’d said and getting nothing in return but silence…</p><p>Cas followed Dean on the wordless tour, and they both stopped when he got to the kitchen, running his hand over the round wooden kitchen table with chairs that Dean thought looked hand-made. There was a sole salt and pepper shaker that looked like the kind from the diners he, Sam, Jack, and Cas had frequented so many times in their days. Cas even had one of those rectangular napkin holders from the 50’s joints.</p><p>Cas stepped around him—too close, always too close—and tugged open the sliding door so Miracle could run outside into the large backyard. The dog launched off the patio, skipping three steps, and tore around the yard, stopping to pee on the edge of the forest.</p><p>It’s what his own house might look like one day, when Dean finally found his place in Heaven.</p><p>“Do you like it?” </p><p>Dean tore his eyes away from the yard and looked at Castiel, hoping he didn’t look as strangely heartbroken as he felt. </p><p>“It’s paradise,” Dean replied quietly, his voice oddly dull. He couldn’t manage the effort it took to fake happiness. </p><p>Cas leaned back to rest his hip on the kitchen table, staring out at Miracle. He crossed his arms across his chest and nodded. In an equally solemn tone, he said, “Strange how Heaven feels perfect, yet missing something all the same.”</p><p>The days of reading between the lines were over. Cas had told Dean he loved him and had told Dean how the silence made him feel. How was Dean supposed to deal with this? He wanted to tell Cas he loved him, that he was <em> in </em>love with him, but how could he insert himself into this corner of Heaven Cas had made for himself, to live as a human so he could learn to love himself? Was it fair to infringe on that?</p><p>
  <em> Missing something all the same… </em>
</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean nodded. “Been feeling that way myself.”</p><p>Cas looked over at him, smiling. “You have your family back. All your friends. Your mother, your father.”</p><p><em> I don’t have you. </em>Dean clapped his hands together, nodding his head at the vintage-looking off-white countertops. “Don’t have lasagna, not yet.”</p><p>Castiel smiled again. Dean drank it in.</p><p>“Hungry?”</p><p>Dean patted at his stomach. “Always.”</p>
<hr/><p>They ate on the back porch, sitting on the steps and holding their plates in their hands. The Heaven lasagna was fuckin’...well, heavenly. </p><p>“You sure you’re not an angel still?” Dean said thickly around a mouthful of piping hot saucy pasta and hearty, creamy beef. He hissed as it burned down his throat. “Didn’t—ah, fuck, it’s hot—You sure you didn’t mojo this into a freakin’ masterpiece?”</p><p>“I followed a recipe,” Castiel said, blowing on his forkful of lasagna, the string of cheese from his plate to his fork wobbling in the stream of air. </p><p>“You cheated somehow.”</p><p>“Eat,” Castiel grunted, before delivering his cheesy forkful into his mouth with a pleased hum.</p><p>Dean rolled his eyes, and couldn’t help but watch and grin when Cas grunted in surprise, twirling his fork around the stubborn string of cheese as it stuck to his lip. “You got a little something—” He waved vaguely at his face in a swirling motion. “—like, all over your face.”</p><p>Cas ignored him, and managed to scowl as he chewed, which was a whole new adorable facial expression for Dean to imagine while laying on his back in bed at night, losing sleep he technically didn’t need up here as he pined for a man who loved him against better judgement.</p><p>“So…” Dean sawed at his large helping of lasagna, cutting a piece into a neat little cube. “Nice house you got. Comfy. Big backyard. I see why Miracle isn’t begging to leave.”</p><p>Cas shrugged, swallowing and picking at his meal a bit, too. “He is happy here, and I do enjoy the company, even if he tramples the newest garden whenever a rabbit wanders onto the property.” It didn’t go unnoticed how Cas lowered his plate to his lap, fork clinking down onto it. “I understand he’s your dog, obviously you should take him back. He loves you very much.”</p><p>Miracle seemed to hear them talking about him, and barked from the corner of the yard where he was digging a hole.</p><p>Dean looked over at Cas and huffed. “Yeah, but if I take full custody, then I won’t be able to get weekend visitation lasagna.”</p><p>Cas’ eyes swivelled over and he looked confused for a moment, “I don’t have custo—” Before he nodded and exhaled in a soft laugh. “You don’t need an excuse to see me, Dean. You’re always welcome in this house. My home is your home, with or without a dog,” he added.</p><p>“Truth be told,” Castiel went on after a quiet moment, his fork twisted in his hand. “During the last leg of our rebuild, I had crafted this house for you.”</p><p>Dean was silent, his breath caught in his throat, his face drained and cold. All the blood in his body rushed to his heart and his eyes burned. “Cas… You… You made this place for me?”</p><p>“Dean—” Cas had the audacity to laugh, a rumbling, soft sound. It occurred to Dean that Cas was exasperated when the blue eyes locked on his face, and his best friend said, “Everything I have ever done was for you. You know that, I was frank, I thought.”</p><p>“You said that, yeah—” The blood was rushing back to his extremities, his face hot again. He could feel himself grow flustered. “But this—for you, y-you deserve your own—”</p><p>“Jack took down the walls for the world, but I built this section of Heaven for you,” Cas pressed on, talking over Dean, his words firm, his eyes resolute. “It is no coincidence everyone you love lives nearby, and that there’s forestry, and mountains with crisp air, and beaches with soft sand and hot sun, and a paved road for your car, and that your parents live in a home like the one from your childhood. I made these things for you.” Castiel pointed over his shoulder. “But this house...I built it from my recollection of your dreams, your longing, from your desires. If you want this house, it’s yours.”</p><p>Dean set his plate aside and leaned on the edge of the porch with his hands curled around the step he sat on, needing the balance. Was Cas asking him to—</p><p>“I’ll move out,” Castiel declared, nodding once with acceptance, his face easy and relaxed. He smiled again, like he had in the bunker dungeon. “It would make me happy if you took it.”</p><p>“Move out?” Dean asked, his mouth dropping open, his brows knitting together. “Where would you live? Cas, you<em> live </em> here—”</p><p>Cas held up a hand, shaking his head. “I worked very hard to make this place livable for you, something you might consider paradise, or close to it. I...grew attached to it, I admit, and when you left that night—the night you arrived—you didn’t say anything about it, didn’t gravitate towards the space. I’d had every intention of gifting it to you once you arrived—”</p><p>Dean couldn’t help it, he scoffed, gesturing back at the beautiful home. “You <em> live </em>here, Cas! You shower in that bathroom, and cook in the kitchen, and fuckin’ sleep on the couch like you’ve been livin’ here all your life. You—”</p><p>The tops of Cas’ cheeks were red and his nostrils flared; a dead giveaway that he was pissed. “I let myself spend the first night of my humanity there, because I wanted to experience just for a moment what it would feel like to live in Dean Winchester’s home, like I was welcome, like I was <em> part </em>of it.”</p><p>Dean rose to his feet, needing to walk. He felt nauseous, the lasagna not sitting right, the emotions definitely not sitting right. He paced, then stopped with his back to Cas, watching Miracle.</p><p>“Despite my intentions, I’ve settled in here now,” Cas admitted, quieter. “I feel like it’s my home, despite my efforts to make it yours. I can sense you’re not comfortable here, and I know you’re living with your parents; Bobby told me.”</p><p>Dean’s lip curled as he glared at the forest on the far end of the yard. “Bobby. The fuck does Bobby know.”</p><p>“He says you’re happy, finally living the life you’ve always wanted with your family, with the mother and father you never got to experience. I understand your Heaven is with them.”</p><p>Dean spun on his heel, pointing out past the house to the road where he’d parked the Impala. “My dad is a piece of shit, okay? Heaven’s got us all together like a white picket nuclear family, but it don’t change that he still treated me like shit, and fuckin’ got so drunk sometimes that I had to step bewteen him and Sam. I took hits from that man when I should’ve been getting hugs and all that other fluffy bullshit everyone else in the world got but me! My mom’s all doe-eyed over him and sometimes I fall into the trap of thinking it’s cute until I remember how they used to fight all the goddamn time before she died.”</p><p>Cas watched him, eyes wide and earnest, his mouth parted a bit. </p><p>Dean poked himself in the chest. “You told me I do everything for love, and fuck, as usual, you’re freakin’ right, Cas. I did everything,<em> everything </em> for love and because of that, yeah, I live with my parents and my little brother because I am fuckin’ drinking in the experiences I missed out on. Family dinners, and drinkin’ beers with my dad, and driving around paradise telling him about my life, because he’s actually interested for once. You know what’s fucked? We had to <em> die </em>for him to care, for us to be a family. I know you said I’m not just anger and grit, but despite finally being in paradise, I feel it, the anger, bubbling under my fucking skin. I got a white picket fence, and loving parents, and a brother at my side, and a car under my ass, but you’re right; Heaven is perfect but it’s missing something.”</p><p>“So you’re not happy?” Castiel asked, his face crestfallen, his tone crushed. He looked heartbroken.</p><p>Even in Heaven, Dean was once again the reason Castiel was let down and disappointed. Unhappy.</p><p>Fuck.</p><p>He wanted to tell Castiel so fucking badly that <em> he </em> was the missing piece in all this paradise, that without being able to speak his truth and reach out to accept the one love he’d always truly ever wanted, Dean felt as miserable as he had down on earth with the living. But...he knew he couldn’t do it; not when Cas had been firm with his wishes. Cas wanted to find happiness from the other person he found no love in; himself. If Dean spoke now, if he made it about himself, maybe Cas might not get that chance, at least not fully.</p><p>This wasn’t just Dean’s Heaven; this was everyone’s, Cas included. Could Dean, in good conscience, intrude on Cas’ Heaven, tread all over his one wish in the afterlife to just learn to love himself?</p><p>Dean had been selfish quite a lot in his life, maybe he needed to learn not to be so selfish in death, too.</p><p>“I’m happy,” Dean lied, deflating. He crossed his arms over his chest again, bowing his head to stare down at the lush green grass. “I got everything I wanted.” He lifted his chin and forced a smile on his face. “Stay in the house, Cas. You mighta made it for me, but it’s made for you. The wand chooses the wizard and all that jazz.”</p><p>Castiel blinked slowly. </p><p>“Harry Potter reference,” Dean sighed, waving his hand. More firmly, he said, “This house belongs to you, Cas. It would make me happy if you just let yourself have it. Remember what you said; you want to find love in yourself. Well, start by living in the house you love.”</p><p>Miracle chose that moment to hobble over and take advantage of the abandoned lasagna at Cas’ feet. </p><p>“And keep the dog,” Dean added, smiling genuinely for the first time since he’d arrived at Castiel’s house. </p><p>“So you can keep visiting,” Cas said slowly, looking down at Miracle and scratching behind the chowing dog’s ears, making no effort to push the sauce-covered snout away from his food.</p><p>Dean chuckled and sighed, dropping his hands to his sides and sitting back down beside his friend. With a hand on Cas’ shoulder, he nodded. </p><p>“Yeah, so I can keep visiting.”</p>
<hr/><p>Dean kept visiting.</p><p>He visited for Miracle; He, Cas, and the pup spent an afternoon hiking through the forest, exploring the landscape that Castiel had crafted for him, all while Miracle fetched them sticks he could hardly carry in his furry mouth, walking all lopsided through the trails, his tail wagging a mile a minute. </p><p>A few days later, between working a shift at the Roadhouse after losing a bet to Ash, and working on his dad’s car, he visited Miracle and found him covered in mud. Dean hosed down the dog outside on the front lawn of Castiel’s house, ‘accidentally’ spraying a sweaty Cas while the man tried to work on putting down patio stones. </p><p>While Cas pulled weeds in the yard or read on the veranda, getting so into the pages that he didn’t even realise he was chewing all his nails down to stumps, Dean threw toys for Miracle to fetch, or tried to teach the dog new tricks. The dog did not want to learn new tricks. The dog wanted to chase squirrels, run circles around Dean, escape to the beach where he’d jump into the water, or piss all over the new floral garden Cas was meticulously planting around the front porch.</p><p>Truth was, he <em> said </em>he visited for Miracle, but he was always visiting for Cas. </p><p>They followed more recipes, made more food. They perfected the lasagna, then moved on to risotto, tacos, and then pizza. Dean was disgusted that Cas liked olives and pineapple on his pizza, and some abomination called a ‘balsamic reduction’. The only thing holding him back from the endless mockery about it was the way Cas moaned around a mouthful of veggie pizza, smiled with sauce on his lip, and then held some out for Dean to try. It was in moments like those that Dean felt intensely grateful that he wasn’t in Heaven just reliving his greatest memories. He was getting to make new ones, ones that weren’t happy just because there was an absence of pain and terror, but rather because they were actually happy.</p><p>They put up chicken wire around the fresh garden so Miracle wouldn’t trample it. </p><p>When the first beautiful, roaring rain storm shot down crashing bolts of lightning on the far side of the ocean, Dean sat with Cas on the porch and watched the flashing lights and listened to the booming thunder. They drank beer and coffee while the radio played mellow classic rock from inside. Cas watched the rain nourish his garden in the night, while Dean watched the tips of Cas’ hair dampen in the mist that sprayed from the rain hitting the porch railing. </p><p>On a particularly sunny, hot day, Sam came along. Dean watched  his brother and friend embrace for a long time, both of their faces pinched and tear-streaked. He sat back smiling, even with his skin hot and itching with jealousy, yearning deeply for another moment where he’d have an excuse to hug Cas again. Regardless of the initial heavy emotions, they spent the day on the beach, Cas snoozing on his stomach atop a beach towel while Dean and Sam attempted to drown each other in the rolling waves and smacked each other with pool noodles. Their friends eventually joined; Charlie, Jo, Pamela, even Bobby and Karen. Hell, Jack made an appearance, too, sitting beside Castiel and building a sand castle like he wasn’t the most powerful being in the entire universe.</p><p>One day, Dean came by to visit, only to find his mom there, already walking the beach with Cas, their bare feet in the shoreline, pants rolled up around their calves. Dean imagined Mary had told Cas to do that—or maybe Cas’d found out on his own how annoying wet pant legs were. </p><p>Bobby visited Cas. Even Pamela visited Cas, though there was no shortage of eye-burning jokes in her presence. Charlie started a DnD group at the Roadhouse, and everyone groaned when she and Cas were the only ones who seemed to understand every game mechanism and rule from the library of DnD books she brought. Wasn’t Dean’s fault he still didn’t know what a ‘saving throw’ was; he had shit to do, a life to try to enjoy, a car to build, a guy he kept trying to take his mind off of.</p><p>Dad never came around. His dad lived in his car, in the house, or at the Roadhouse. When he saw Cas at the bar, he nodded and said hello, but Dean was always aware, with the hair lifting on his neck, that dad looked at Cas kind of weirdly, like he wasn’t human, like he still couldn’t be trusted.</p><p>He thought his dad should show some fucking respect.</p><p>Still, when the old man was around, Dean sat a little farther from Cas, touched less, and was a little quieter. Old habits died hard, especially in the ones fueled by memories of his dad telling him he’d better not turn out ‘like that’.</p><p>Sometimes, when everyone went home, or they’d had a busy day, Dean stayed a bit too late at Cas’ place. When the house lost the buzz of activity, and Miracle was tuckered out, snoozing on his back by the backdoor, Dean cleaned the kitchen, or fixed himself a late night snack from the fridge that wasn’t his. Sometimes Cas would be watching a movie, and Dean would sit on the recliner without invitation. He’d leave after the movie was done, though sometimes they’d stay up and chat.</p><p>But one time, he stayed a bit too late. </p><p>He’d been organizing the kitchen cabinet because Castiel’s sense of order was chaotic, and he was sick of finding small plates hidden behind mugs, or a spatula sitting alone on a singular shelf. It didn’t take long, but for fuck’s sake, if the house had originally been built for him, he was going to at least have a hand in making it <em> look </em> like he lived there. </p><p>That night, when he was done, he’d come out to see what Cas was up to, only to find Cas passed out on the couch, lying on his side, an open book still in his hand. He was still wearing jeans, which probably wasn’t comfortable, and the button up he’d worn open over a t-shirt was all skewed and twisted. Even in sleep, though, his finger held his page, tucked between the pages, nestled in close to the spine.</p><p>Gently, Dean eased the book out from under Castiel’s hand and bent down the page corner before placing it quietly atop the coffee table. With care, he tried to avoid the squeaky floorboards and kept to the carpet, leaning over Cas to tug the blanket out from under Cas’ feet. With equal care, he draped the blanket over his friend, tucking it in to prevent cold spots. </p><p>He stood there for a moment, glancing over at the dying embers in the fireplace, wondering if he should take some wood from the pile outside and stoke the fire until it returned in roaring flames to keep Cas warm. He knew he could leave the fire like that, that Heaven wouldn’t allow the home Castiel had lovingly crafted to burn down. But he also knew what it was like to wake up in front of a fire—a memory pulled from a rolodex of his least-traumatizing Purgatory memories—and feel hot and confused. Maybe Dean would leave it to die out.</p><p>He crossed his arms over his chest and turned back to watch Cas sleep; watching for the rise and fall under the blanket. The lines around Cas’ eyes were soft; he almost looked as young as he had in the barn for a moment, with the embers casting him in soft, warm light. His hair was a mess as usual, but didn’t have the same fluff as it had when he’d been an angel. A piece of hair fell to his forehead, and before Dean could control himself, he’d crouched down, lifted a hand, and pushed the lock back to meld in with the rest of Cas’ soft, shiny fringe, all flipped back and out of his face.</p><p>His hand hovered there, and he felt an overwhelming surge of grief. The moment seemed robbed from a timeline when he’d said something back to Cas instead of being silent. </p><p>So he stayed crouched down by Cas’ head for a second, bowing his own as he inhaled deeply, trying to get a full breath. Breathing felt funny for a long few seconds, and he realised quite abruptly that he was crying when a tear dripped off his nose and soaked into the tight denim around his knee. He watched the tear feather out into a small circle in the material, and sniffed quietly.</p><p>“I love you,” he whispered tearfully, lifting his face and smiling, watery, wavering at Cas’ sleeping face. “I love you so much.”</p><p>Castiel breathed in deeply—Dean’s heart stopped. </p><p>Then he exhaled slowly, shifting in his sleep. His face was still smooth, still serene. In sleep, Cas seemed to feel no pain.</p><p>Dean reached out and gripped the arm of the couch, his own breath ragged and uneven.</p><p>Castiel had been right all along; the silence hurt. It was like a knife that sunk in slowly, then turned and twisted, ravaging his insides. Even when he knew Cas loved him, the silence in return, to a confession that felt so heavy, was like a punch to the stomach. Dean felt gutted. The silence held his words hostage, holding them above their heads, its fist squeezing around the confession like it wanted to suffocate the life out of it.</p><p>He wasn’t sure how long he could do this, not say anything. He wanted to hold out for Cas, to give Cas space to grow into his own person, but his heart was screaming that Cas was already his own person. His heart shuddered with longing, determined to convince Dean that he could love Cas enough for the both of them.</p><p>Before he did anything stupid, Dean lifted himself to his feet, and he left.</p>
<hr/><p>Crazy, how Dean had now been in both the situation of being told he was loved by Cas and had told Cas that he loved him—a situation he’d thought he’d never be in—and Cas had no idea of the latter. Dean, on the other hand, felt different, like something had changed, like he was standing on the edge of a cliff, tilting forward towards a torrent of crashing ocean waves, anticipating. Every time he saw Cas, he expected the man to tell him he’d been awake, that he’d heard the momentous proclamation, that he was so touched, so happy, so excited to start something—</p><p>But Cas was the same. Same as he’d been since he was taken by the Empty. Hell, he was the same as before the Empty. Turned out the proclamation from the other night was only momentous to Dean, who walked around Heaven like he was waiting for something big to happen, and it didn’t.</p><p>Cas didn’t look at him any different than usual, though now it was nearly impossible to ignore or pretend he didn’t see the resignation that lurked behind Cas’ eyes. He’d surrendered already, Dean realised. Maybe Dean had surrendered already, too, seeing as he’d only gotten the courage to finally reply to Castiel’s magnificent words when the man was unconscious—</p><p>“Son? Hello?”</p><p>John Winchester snapped his oil-smudged fingers. </p><p>Dean looked up from the bottle of WD40 in his hands and blinked. “What? I mean, pardon?”</p><p>John scowled. “The lid,” John repeated, giving his arm a little shake. “Unless you wanted to keep staring into the top like there’s money floating on the bottom. Don’t want to interrupt anything.”</p><p>With a little crooked smile, Dean snorted softly, accepting the black lid and resting his hip on the front bumper of the Mustang as he screwed on the top. “Sorry. Head in the clouds.”</p><p>John huffed a small laugh under his breath, wiping his hands on a cloth tucked into his jean pocket. His eyes watched Dean carefully. “I guess technically the clouds are under our feet, so you musta been somewhere else completely—”</p><p>Yeah, a beautiful two story home with sturdy, handsome stairs, a garden, a dog, and a beach through the trees.</p><p>Dean glanced up, the hot sun scorching high in the sky above their backyard, prickling his sweaty face and making the air above the black concrete under their feet ripple. “Haven’t heard a dad joke from you in over 35 years. I almost missed it.”</p><p>“Get used to it. Without monsters and all the world’s horrors up here, I got a lot of free time to come up with stupid jokes. Gotta make up for a lifetime of no sense of humour,” John replied, smirking and turning to rest his ass on the bumper, squinting in the sun to survey Dean. “You gonna spill about what’s got your face looking like you <em> didn’t </em>die and go straight to Heaven?”</p><p>Where did Dean even start? Did he start with Cas, or the ever present buzz under his skin of dissatisfaction with Heaven, or how his dad felt out of place here, or how everything he’d ever imagined he wanted in the afterlife just seemed to pale in comparison now that he’d realised he’d had a chance with Cas and blew it?</p><p>“You bored?” John asked, tugging sunglasses from his crew neck and sliding them onto his face. “Could always get a job, if you wanted. Jack told me they got ‘em up here. Personally, I’m done with doing shit I don’t wanna do, but if being a mechanic is what you wanna do, I’m sure there’s a garage in town full of beautiful vintage wheels just waiting for you.”</p><p>“It ain’t that,” Dean said, though that was kind of part of it. He held the WD40 in his hands, his thumb brushing at a smudge of grease on the handle. </p><p>John shrugged, crossing his arms over his chest. “You want a white picket fence like Sammy used to want? Like he got?”</p><p>Out of habit, Dean waited for the tone of disapproval to register in his head from John’s voice, but it never came. There was none of the bitterness John harboured for Sam in his tone like there had been the entire time they’d been alive. </p><p>“You’d want me to go live some white picket life?” Dean asked in confusion, lifting his head.</p><p>John racked his teeth over his bottom lip. “It’s not what I thought you’d always want for yourself.”</p><p><em> You mean, it’s not what </em> you <em> had always wanted for me. </em></p><p>It’s what he wanted to say, but—</p><p>But <em> what </em>? He was fucking dead. They were all dead—in Heaven. There was very little Dean hadn’t experienced in the world of pain, so what was he fearing exactly? John Winchester had been the source of physical and mental pain for decades, even after he’d vacated the same physical plane Dean inhabited. What the fuck else could there be to feel?</p><p>So Dean rode the rising, towering crescendo of anger in his chest and he let the WD40 hang off his hooked finger at his side, the bottle heavy and swinging against his thigh. His other hand curled and he lifted it, pointing at his dad.</p><p>“You mean, it’s not what <em> you </em> had always wanted for me. <em> Sir.</em>”</p><p>To his surprise, instead of pushing off the car, sliding into Dean’s personal space, and whispering threats inches from Dean’s face, as Dean expected from muscle memory, John crossed his ankles and held Dean’s gaze steadily. </p><p>“That ain’t true, son. What happened to y’all? I never wanted that for my infant son and little boy. Your mother and I wanted you to be happy, we…” John rubbed at his lips with his finger, giving his head a shake. “We opened college funds for you boys, and moved into the neighbourhood with the good schools. What happened? How it all went down? That’s not what we wanted. Not what I wanted. You were my children, and I wanted the best for you. Losing myself and fucking that up is a regret I still take with me, even in supposed paradise.”</p><p>Ah, well, at least Dean wasn’t the only person holding on to his mortal anguish in some way or another. Regardless, fuck him. </p><p>“You fucked me up, dad,” Dean breathed. </p><p>John’s jaw jumped. “I know.”</p><p>Dean gestured at his head. “I spent all the time you were dead trying to unlearn all the shit you taught me about what it meant to be worthy. You know I went to Hell, and I died more times than I’ll ever know, and each time you’d actually got me thinkin’ I deserved it and you weren’t even <em> there </em> . That’s the legacy you left behind. I thought; if my own father thinks I’m shit, then I must be shit. Had chances to get out of the life and I never thought I could take ‘em. I had even had a girl and a kid, not mine but still...mine.” Dean gritted his teeth together and tried to ignore the sting at his lash line. “I had her and I had him and I had that family and the entire time, I worried about protecting them because I thought that’s all I was good for to them. I watched the dark corners of the house, convinced something was looking at me from the depths, waiting to for it take everything from me in blood and terror, because that’s what <em> happens to families. </em>You taught me that.”</p><p>“You can have that now,” John said, lifting his head. His voice was tight, careful, steady. “Don’t know if you’re lookin’ for permission from me, but if that’s what you want, then here; go get the house and kid and wife.”</p><p>Dean’s heart splintered like John had taken an ice pick to it. Without realising, Dean inhaled sharply, the hurt in his chest feeling very real. </p><p>His dad didn’t get it.</p><p>“I don’t want a wife, and I don’t want your <em> permission,</em>” Dean breathed. “I want you to say you’re sorry.”</p><p>John’s bottom lip was bleeding a bit, his teeth gnawing a crack in his dry lips. He said nothing, though, staring through his sunglasses down to the ground, where the sun and their treading footprints had worn the grass a bit at the end of the drive where they’d parked the car. </p><p><em> Say you’re sorry, </em>Dean begged internally, wanting an apology. When he didn’t get it, he lifted his hand and dragged the back of his wrist to rub under his eyes, where a tear tickled his skin in the cleft of his under-eye circles.</p><p>“Great, now I’m crying,” Dean said thickly, sniffling hard and shaking his head. “Bet that’s another disappointment for you—”</p><p>Finally, John pushed off the car and stepped into Dean’s space, crowding him. To his own horror, Dean actually flinched; muscle memory. But before he could sink into shame, his father’s hands were on him; not to hurt him, but to hold his face. </p><p>“You are not a disappointment, I can’t fucking stand to hear you say that anymore.” John’s face, clammy with sweat, was shiny where a tear slipped out from under his glasses. “If you got something to say to me, you say it, understand? You didn’t put up with shit all your life only to get to Heaven and hang on to the hate inside you that<em> I </em> put there. Let that shit go, son. And if you gotta take that hatred and blame off your shoulders, I want to be where you put it to rest. I’ll carry it now, you hear? That’s mine to bear.”</p><p>There were so many individual things Dean wanted to scream at his father for. So many instances of hurt, and internalization of trauma, and of neglect. </p><p>“You know, when Cas died,” Dean breathed, staring at his father, “he told me I did everything I’ve ever done for love. For a long time, I thought how you treated me was for love, and I thought how you treated me was the way people treated the people they cared about. So I treated everyone elses love like a fuckin’ burden, too, you know?”</p><p>With the most subtle movement of his head, John nodded. His throat bobbed.</p><p>Dean sniffed, exhaling through a pin in his lips. “Then Cas told me he loved me.”</p><p>He waited. </p><p>John didn’t say anything. He just stared, his lips pressed together tightly.</p><p>“I never let anyone love me like that before, you know? Wasn’t raised to prioritize myself, always thought what I wanted wasn’t important. So when Cas told me that—that thing I’ve always wanted to hear, I didn’t say jack-shit back.” Dean squeezed his teeth together so hard he felt a jolt of pain up the side of his face. His heart hammered in his chest, waiting for the blow, but he pushed on, shoving the words from behind his teeth. “Told myself the feelings of shame about what I wanted were normal, that the shame <em> was </em>me, ‘cause you taught me to be ashamed for wanting the things I wanted. And I felt ashamed for loving him back. And worse, I hated myself because when the time came, and I had the chance to tell Cas how I felt, I couldn’t do it because even w-when it came down to the wire and there wasn’t any time left, I still didn’t think I was worth it. It was only after he died, after he said the stuff he said to me, did I realise the stuff you taught me was nothing but empty bullshit.”</p><p>He leaned it, pushing his dad on the chest. His father’s hands slipped off his face and John Winchester stepped back, the muscles in his face taut. Dean couldn’t see his eyes, but he assumed they were swimming with anger. </p><p>“I want so badly to blame you for hurting Cas, because <em> I </em>hurt Cas,” Dean hissed, tears flowing freely now, his voice thick and wobbly in a way he was finally allowing it to be. He dropped the WD40 to the ground, uncaring if it broke or tipped over or spilled. He stepped towards his dad, pointing at him. “But I blame myself, because even after I died and came to Heaven, I still let you get to me. I’m in fucking paradise with everything I’ve ever wanted and I still let myself buy into the idea that I don’t deserve what I have, what I’ve been offered. Heaven, Cas, freedom. None of it. I can’t say the words to his face and that’s my…” Dean gripped at his own shirt, scrunching it against his heart. “That’s my fault.”</p><p>John’s mouth opened and closed and his nostrils flared. His hand made an aborted move to take off his glasses, then twitched a bit, forming a fist in the air, one that clenched and unclenched with his jaw. He looked like he wanted to say something, but Dean cut him off because in all the circles he was talking, he’d talked himself into the eye of the storm; he reached clarity, finally, about the ache in his chest</p><p>“I hate you because I can’t blame you this time,” Dean croaked, inhaling a wavering breath. Watery, he breathed, “It’s me. It’s just all me.”</p><p>“Enough,” John said, his voice shaking. His hand dropped down, his fist uncurling, fingers limp at his side. “Enough of this.”</p><p>Dean wondered why he’d bothered at all, why he’d opened his trap and let forty years of pain pour from his mouth. He thought after purging his anger and resentment, that’ he’d feel free to fill the space with some peace, but—</p><p>When he sobbed out loud, bringing his hands to his mouth to shove it back in, John was back in his space. And this time, instead of letting Dean’s anguish hover in the air between them, thick and hot like the humidity, John absorbed it into the shoulder of his t-shirt. </p><p>“I’m sorry,” John said into Dean’s hair. “I’m so sorry, my son.”</p><p>It wasn’t perfect, it wasn’t remotely close to the fantasy of his dad begging for forgiveness, but...turned out, it was better. This was real.</p><p>“I made it to Heaven,” John whispered. “Not because I’m any good, I don’t think. I’m here because you and Sam and your mom are here. O-One day Adam will be here, too. I got eternity to face my life and the consequences of what I’ve done to my kids, my boys.”</p><p>No monsters or yellow-eyed demons in the way to smokescreen the trauma he left behind. John Winchester would have to face his real demons, and that would start with Dean. And with Sam. And one day, with Adam.</p><p>Very suddenly, the space Dean had hoped to make within himself after shedding this pain freed up. He felt lighter with every shaky exhale into his dad’s shirt and inhale of car oil and the cheap gas station body spray his dad had used since ‘85. An ‘I’m sorry’ didn’t fix it all, but it really, really was starting to help.</p><p>“I love you,” Dean whispered.</p><p>John hugged him harder, his hand hot on Dean’s shoulder as it squeezed the sweat-damp cotton. “I love you too, Dean. Always have. And I am so proud of you.”</p><p>Dean’s hands slipped from his own face and twined around his dad’s ribs, holding on for all the times he’d wished he’d gotten this and hadn’t. </p><p>“If anyone ain’t worthy, it’s me,” John rasped. “I’m so proud of you and Sam but I don’t take no credit for it. The brave men you turned out to be was all you, Dean. You raised you and your brother to be outstanding people. It was all you.”</p><p>Dean opened his eyes, his vision blurry. Happiness surged up in his chest, bright light filling the formerly shadowed recesses of his heart. “Thank you,” he whispered.</p><p>With one more hearty squeeze, his dad pulled away, holding him arm’s length by the shoulder, the other wiping at Dean’s cheeks with dirty fingers. Dean realised his face was smeared with black smudges at the same time as John did, and they both laughed. </p><p>“Enough tears now,” John murmured roughly. “I think you’ve done enough of that in your life. Heaven’s not for pain, that’s the whole deal. You got one thing out of the way, now get in your car and get another one. There’ll be peace when you’re done.”</p><p>“Like that Kansas song?” Dean laughed roughly, wiping at the smudges on his cheek with his shoulder sleeve.</p><p>John grinned, raising his glasses to his head, his red, shining eyes squinted in the sunlight. They glittered mischievously as he nodded to the side of the house, where the Impala was parked around the corner. “‘Course.”</p><p>“That’s tacky, dad. Bad timing.” </p><p>“Get in that car, Dean,” John said, ignoring him. “Get in that car of yours and get that man. You speak your goddamn truth and so help me God—” He paused, scowling. “Well, Jack or whatever—if you come back empty handed for dinner without that awkward fallen angel, I’ll drag my ass over there and embarrass you myself. I’ve got all afternoon to figure out all the ways I missed out on embarrassing you in front of dates when you were in high school, like a normal kid.”</p><p>John turned back towards the open hood of the Mustang, appearing to end the conversation. He tugged the rag from his pocket and began fiddling with the engine.</p><p>Dean stood there, stunned.</p><p>“I thought you said…” Dean hesitated, remembering all the times John had implied the doomed consequences of Dean coming out as anything other than straight. “I-You said, I mean, back when I was—You know, when you thought… That one time with me and Lee—”</p><p>John paused, the muscles in his shoulders tensing. Then he resumed working on the car, nodding abruptly. “The fuck did I know about anything? Nothing but air, and dust, and maggots between these ears. Don’t you think it’s about time I stopped being such a huge jackass?”</p><p>Dean paused. </p><p>John peered up at him over his shoulder.</p><p>“Been thinking that for years, actually,” Dean said, grinning.</p><p>John scowled and pointed in the direction of the Impala. “So help me God, Dean Winchester, you get in that car before I drive you there myself and humiliate you in front of that man. I got a whole mixtape of love songs in that glovebox I made for your mom and I ain’t scared to use it—at full blast.”</p><p>“Yes, sir.”</p><p>John sighed, whipping the rag in his hand at his son, getting Dean in the chest. “Stop calling me that. Those days are done; I’m not giving you orders any more.”</p><p>Feeling a bit goofy, Dean’s smile widened and he nodded. “Cool. Thanks, Dad.”</p><p>He almost made to leave, when John’s head poked over the hood of the Mustang. “Actually, one last order.”</p><p>Dean looked over his shoulder and tilted his head a bit, eyes narrowing.</p><p>“Go shower,” John ordered, gesturing to the house. “The angel isn’t gonna want to make out with you if you’ve got motor oil all over your face.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Thoughts? Leave me a comment, I'd love to hear your thoughts on this chapter!</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Breaking the Silence</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff"><p>Last chapter, here we go!</p></blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>Dean let himself into Cas’ house. It wasn’t hard, the doors were always unlocked so Castiel’s friends could come and go. </p><p>Not wanting to be interrupted, Dean locked the door behind him as he toed off his shoes. </p><p>“Cas?” Dean yelled through the house, leaning into the living room, his eyes sweeping the room for a glimpse of Cas lounging on the couch, or moving around in the kitchen, or even working in the backyard. Having seen more patio stones laid out in the walkway out front with a pile of dirt on the grass beside a discarded shovel, it was entirely plausible that Cas had moved on to the back yard. They’d started digging a firepit out back last week, and he’d hoped Cas would’ve waited for him to finish it, but he knew Cas was never still, always doing something around the house. He imagined the man had been itching to finish it.</p><p>Dean had moved through the living room towards the back sliding door in the kitchen, stopping to pet Miracle, who lifted his sleepy head off the ground, when Cas’ voice came muffled through the ceiling above him.</p><p>“I’m upstairs!”</p><p>Dean raised his brows, trudging back through the house and hesitating before he began ascending the steps; he’d never been upstairs in all his visits, and Cas hadn’t ever offered a tour. </p><p>So upon landing on the spacious upper landing and looking around at the simple space, he smiled at the one picture Cas had hung on at the top of the stairs of himself, Dean, Sam, and Mary. Jack had taken it after a hunt; Dean looked mid-speech, as did Sam—they’d likely been playfully arguing—while Mary and Cas smiled at each other. He ran his hand over a small, darkly-stained wooden table, and looked up at a big, stained-glass sky-light. His face was dotted in colours of the rainbow as the rays shone down on him.</p><p>Feeling warm as he learned more about the space Cas had made for him, Dean followed the sounds of Cas moving around, opening and closing drawers, to a bedroom at the end of the hall. He pushed open the half-cracked door to find Cas bent over an open dresser, his legs exposed under black boxer-briefs, and his chest showing through half-buttoned white shirt. He had a toothbrush sticking out of his mouth, and his brows were knitted as he lifted folded clothing out of the way. </p><p>“Hello, Dean,” he started, his voice muffled as he spoke around his toothbrush. </p><p>“Whoa!” Dean yelped, hiding his eyes behind his hand. “You’re super half-naked.”</p><p>“I expected you to knock,” Cas grunted, dumping a small pile of folded jeans on the top of the dresser and rummaging in another drawer. </p><p>Distracted by the sass, Dean dropped his hand a bit and pointed over his shoulder. “I can leave if you wanna finish getting changed—”</p><p>“It’s fine,” Cas said, unfolding himself and shaking out a pair of black trousers, eyeing them for suitability. “My genitalia is covered, which is what matters. That’s what you always told me, anyway.”</p><p>His cheeks hot, Dean immediately recalled all the times Cas walked in on him changing in the bunker bathrooms or his own bedroom, not caring that most humans were bashful about nakedness. He’d chewed the angel’s ear off more than once for just standing in the doorway of his room and squinting at Dean’s balls in confusion. </p><p>
  <em> “You knock and wait! No one comes in until the dangling bits are tucked into bed!” </em>
</p><p>“Right, I guess technically—right, sure.” Dean nodded and tried to look anywhere but Cas. As he did so, he finally noticed the room and found himself walking in deeper, staring around. The bed was simple enough, though the fluffy gray duvet cover looked nothing short of Heavenly, and the furniture all matched the rest of the home’s dark wood aesthetic. Dean’s socks slid over a plush round carpet that took up most of the room, and of course, the walls were covered in pictures of their lives. </p><p>But he found himself gravitating towards the farthest wall, which wasn’t so much a wall as it was a giant window; glass spanned floor to ceiling and opened to a wide balcony with a couple chairs and a small table. Dean saw a half-empty coffee cup on the railing, looking like it’d been forgotten. He gripped the handle to the sliding door and looked over the trees surrounding the house, pausing to stare at the beach just visible over the canopy of the woods. </p><p>The sunset would look breathtaking from that balcony, or from that bed. The view made the world look magnificent, and all too big; Dean knew it wasn’t a view meant to be enjoyed alone. It hadn’t been built to enjoy alone.</p><p>It hurt him that Cas had to watch the sun set, thinking he’d have to watch it alone for eternity.</p><p>“Cas,” Dean said, his breath fogging over the class for a second, “I came over to tell you something.”</p><p>When he turned around, Cas was still examining the pants, picking lint off of them with a scowl. He plucked the tooth brush from his mouth and said distractedly, “I’m not sure what I’m doing wrong with my laundry. My darks all have these little white fuzz balls on—”</p><p>“Cas,” Dean said again, sighing and rolling his eyes, walking back over the carpet and stopping in front of the idiot he loved. He tugged the pants from Cas’ hands and plucked the toothbrush from his fingers, setting them atop a small leather trunk at the end of the bed. “I have to tell you something, so put down the freakin’ pants, we’ll deal with teaching you about lint rollers later.”</p><p>Cas frowned, wiping at his mouth and nodding, his throat bobbing as he swallowed. Dean forced himself to look up from Cas’ exposed collarbones and chest as the half-unbuttoned shirt shifted. “My apologies, I’m here to listen. What’s wrong, Dean?”</p><p>Cas looked very concerned that something was wrong with Dean. Of course, he’d spent a lot of time making this corner of Heaven perfect for Dean, it was understandable that he’d be worried. </p><p>“A lot,” Dean admitted, smiling tightly and willing his hands to stop sweating. “A lot is wrong but I’m hoping I can fix it now.”</p><p>“I’m sure you can,” Cas said without faltering, nodding his head and holding his chin high. “You can do anything you put your mind to.”</p><p>Man, the confidence Cas had in him was almost knee-weakening. Dean wiped his palms on his sides and reached out, grasping Cas’ biceps in his hands. Cas looked down at his hands and then up at his face, brows knitting in confusion, eyes wide. </p><p>“Dean—”</p><p>“Thank you for making sure you had a place in my little slice of Heaven, Cas,” Dean said before he lost the gall and backed out. His hands tightened on Cas’ shoulders. “Thank you for making this house for me, it’s...it’s fucking beautiful.”</p><p>Cas’ eyes relaxed and he smiled softly, though his head did tilt in confusion. “You’re welcome, Dean.”</p><p>“Thank you for taking care of Miracle, and for making sure all my friends were here when I got here, and for putting my parents up in our house from Lawrence. It’s...been something else to live in there with them as a family; me and Sam never really got to experience that life, even when mom came back. Sam’s especially never got any of that apple pie stuff, so it’s been...just...so, so good to see him smile.”</p><p>“I love Sam very much,” Cas admitted, lips spreading into a grin. “That makes me happy.”</p><p>“Good,” Dean breathed, shaking his head, his heart melting. “‘Cause you deserve to be happy.”</p><p>“Thank you, Dean.” Cas’ eyes were unblinking and glittering. Dean could tell he was flattered, and touched, but still kind of lost. </p><p>Inhaling slowly, gathering up the pieces of his nerve, Dean plowed on. “Thank you for saving me. I haven’t thanked you for that yet, but what you did in that dungeon, what you did for me, and for Sam, and Jack, and all of humanity, it was… I mean, it’s not a surprise, you’ve always been better than us, better than anyone. But it was fucking brave, Cas. You’re the bravest person I know, and the kindest. I—we… I don’t deserve you.”</p><p>Castiel’s mouth was parted again, and he stared at Dean hard, shaking his head a bit. “Why are you saying these things?”</p><p>Here it was; the opportunity he’d been waiting for. He was being given a second chance and he wasn’t gonna fucking blow it again. </p><p>“Because I need you to know that, um—I need you to know that Heaven would’ve been garbage if you hadn’t been here when I got here. Despite all my friends and family bein’ one call away, and despite a paradise with no supposed hunger, or pain, or suffering, I would’ve been the one to bend those rules, like I always do. I would've been fucking miserable here without you. I would’ve done anything to find a way back, so I could find a way back to you.”</p><p>Cas’ mouth was entirely dropped open now, and to Dean’s shock, Cas shook his head, stepping away. “Don’t do this, Dean. I—I can’t—If you don’t mean it, if you’re just doing this because—”</p><p>This wasn’t going right at all. Dean stepped forward, following Cas, his hand snapping out to grasp Cas’ shoulder. “Castiel, you listen to me.”</p><p>Cas’ eyes were wild as he glared, his mouth pressed into a thin line.</p><p>“I love you,” Dean said softly, his eyes stinging. He pleaded with Cas not to walk away. “I’m in love with you.”</p><p>Castiel stared at him. He stared with his lips parted, and his throat working. Cas’ eyes were pitched at the corners and wet, his face was coloured in anger. “You <em> love </em>me?”</p><p>“Always have,” Dean shrugged. His hand dropped to his side, arms turning out a bit, palms open. “As far back as I could remember.” </p><p>“I couldn’t have you,” Cas replied immediately, stepping back again, his eyes searching the space around Dean’s feet, eyes searching frantically for some kind of logic to make this make sense. “I told you I knew I couldn’t have the one thing I wanted and you said <em> nothing</em>.”</p><p>The hiss in Cas’ voice hurt, and Dean’s face twitched a bit like a wince. In a moment of weakness, Dean lowered his gaze too, but quickly pulled it up, knowing he had to answer for his emotionally-stunted bullshit. This was Heaven, he had everything to lose up here. </p><p>“I didn’t know what to say,” Dean admitted. “When the Empty came, a-and Billie was right there, I...I didn’t know what to say, Cas. I’m sorry.”</p><p>Cas’ mouth dropped open and his brows furrowed over wide eyes. “You didn’t know <em> what to say </em> ? How about ‘I love you too’? Something I could have taken with me as the sole source of comfort in the Empty, where, for all you knew, I would be spending eternity in <em> suffering</em>?”</p><p>Dean’s open hands snapped closed into fists, his fingers kneading into sweating palms. He knew he should probably say something else, but he just choked out in anguish, “I love you, Cas. That’s the truth.”</p><p>On top of not being the type of person to rant or say more than was absolutely necessary, Castiel hadn’t ever been the type of person to scream at anyone. He’d certainly cried out orders or raised his voice firmly, with authority, to ensure he was heard, but to Dean’s dismay, today Cas bared his teeth and approached Dean slowly, words rushing from his mouth in a crescendo from a growl to a full-on yell; “I spent all that time in the Empty going through every <em> moment </em>that I didn’t tell you I loved you, every moment where I let you convince me that you hated me!” </p><p>His long, slender finger uncurled from a white-knuckled fist. “And I had to watch those moments over and over again, Dean Winchester. I could’ve been plagued with anything else, anything of actual monumental value to Heaven or Earth, but instead<em> you </em> and that dungeon and those words I spoke were the sole content of my fears. The Shadow taunted me with them a-and—You could’ve said ‘I love you too’ and spared me the heartache, the self-hatred, the—the—the god forsaken lecherous <em> jeering </em> and teasing about it from that wretched Shadow! I could’ve had something to hold onto—”</p><p>Dean could feel the heat coming off Cas, the hot, scorching fury; it sealed his feet to the floor, and all he could do under the blastwave of regret was whisper, “I should’ve told you sooner, I—”</p><p>He wasn’t sure what to expect in response to that, but he expected to be yelled at some more, or even for Cas to walk away. He certainly didn’t deserve a tender embrace and for Cas to collapse into his arms, weeping with relief, but he sure as fuck didn’t expect Cas to swing at him.</p><p>The punch landed square in Dean’s jaw, solid and fast. Dean saw stars and hissed in shock, his hand snapping up to cradle his aching, pulsing jaw. “<em>Ow! Jesus fuck—</em>What the—”</p><p>When he blinked the bursting fireworks from behind his eyes, giving his head a shake, he saw Cas turned to the side, holding his fist to his chest, his face scrunched up. </p><p>“Oh, <em>ow</em>,” Cas whispered, flexing his fingers and blinking around abrupt tears of pain. Dean watched him look down at his shaking hand, betrayed. “Shit, that<em> hurts.</em>”</p><p>Unsure what else to do, though he hardly had control over the bubble in his chest, Dean held his jaw and started to laugh. His extremities trembling in an overwhelming release of relief, he began to laugh so hard he snorted and had to bring a hand up to his mouth to muffle the sound.</p><p>Castiel blinked through the tears and stared at his hand, which was starting to swell around the knuckles. Then he, too, began to laugh, his eyes squeezing shut and the raspy voice hiccupping. “It h-hurts so badly, why do you and Sam always do t-this? It’s awful.”</p><p>Unable to respond through his wheezing, Dean reached out and cupped his hand to the back of Cas’ neck, pulling him in. Cas came easily, snaking the arm (without the injured hand) around Dean’s waist, burying his hoarse laughter in the shoulder of Dean’s jacket, his shoulders shaking under Dean’s arms.</p><p>The men laughed for too long, long enough for Cas’ chuckles to turn into breathless gasps and for his injured hand to come around and press against the small of Dean’s back. </p><p>Eventually, the giggles faded and silence blanketed over them as they stood together, wrapped around each other with no rush to untangle. Still, Dean wanted to see Cas’ face, see the smile he could feel pressed into his skin. He pulled back just enough, riding the high and kissing Cas on the cheek before he stared into his warm blue eyes. </p><p>“I’m sorry I didn’t say anything sooner,” Dean repeated honestly. “You know...our lives weren’t ever easy and…”</p><p>“I never thought I’d have this,” Cas breathed, interrupting Dean to stare into his face.</p><p>Dean smiled. “You’ve been wrong before.”</p><p>“For the first time,” Cas murmured, eyes darting across the features of Dean’s face, “I’m happy I was wrong.”</p><p>“First time for everything, I guess,” Dean replied, shrugging, his smile widening. “First time for a lot of things.”</p><p>Cas’ eyes softened at the corners, gazing at Dean’s lips with a longing, far-away quality. “I hope so.”</p><p>“So...you’re not mad at me?”</p><p>Castiel sucked in a sharp breath, but his face softened and he shook his head, smiling. “Not right now. Although I imagine I will spend eternity being angry at you for many things. It’s how we are.”</p><p>“I’m a shithead,” Dean chuckled, his cheeks glowing. “I’ll probably deserve it.”</p><p>“Probably,” Castiel murmured, eyes glittering.</p><p>They stood in the beautiful bedroom, feet sunk into the plush carpet, the sun shining through the glass wall, and stared at each other. </p><p>“I can’t believe we’re here,” Dean admitted suddenly, looking around, then resting his gaze on Cas. “I can’t believe I made it to Heaven, with you.”</p><p>“What do we do now?” </p><p>Dean found himself laughing, unsure how to answer. Hoarsely, he admitted, “I’ve kind of fantasized about a time when I loved you and you loved me back, but that’s always as far as I got. I never thought I’d make it to paradise. I never knew what came after.”</p><p>“Me either.” Cas tilted his head, eyes searching Dean’s face fondly.</p><p>He probably looked just as dopey, his teeth running over his bottom lip. “I don’t know what we should do.”</p><p>Birds chirped outside and Miracle zoomed around downstairs, as he did. According to Bobby, there was a big, new world out there, but all Dean could think of now was Cas. </p><p>Abruptly, Cas crashed his loving reverie by bluntly saying, “We could have sex.”</p><p>Dean choked on spit and coughed into his elbow, staring at Cas with wide eyes. His voice strained, he wheezed, “Dude, wow, moving fast here.”</p><p>“I’m sorry,” Cas said quickly, though his eyes lingering over Dean’s chest and shoulders, his hand shaking as he ran it down his own chest. “It’s just...when I’m human, and I let my thoughts turn to you, it goes to… I can’t help it, it seems.” </p><p>Dean swallowed thickly, still coughing a bit, though he swiped his thumb over Cas’ stubbly chin. “It’s okay, I mean, it’s normal. Natural.”</p><p>Cas nodded, still conducting his thorough inspection of Dean’s shoulders and throat. Then his face, surveying each feature with a strange hunger. “The sensation is bizarre. It’s like the desire for you is always there—” He ran a hand over his chest again. “—under my skin. It’s an itch I can’t seem to scratch, but I can wait.”</p><p>In his lifetime, many people had said a variety of dirty, erotic shit to Dean, but this was downright the hottest. </p><p>He wasn’t sure why he’d reacted like that wasn’t what he wanted. Hell, he had his own tingling desires lurking under his skin that he wanted to be soothed by the angel’s warm hands.</p><p>He was in Heaven, what the fuck was Dean waiting for? He’d waited long enough.</p><p>“We have forever,” Cas went on, though his eyes kept dragging over Dean’s chest, flickering up to his lips, then setting on his eyes. With their gaze held firmly, he smiled softly. “There isn’t a rush.”</p><p>Grabbing his fear by the balls and tossing ‘em out the window, Dean stepped towards Cas and took his wrist gently. </p><p>Cas stepped back, his knees hitting a drawer, sliding it closed. His back pressed against the dresser and Dean noticed his chest hitch. </p><p>“Where’s the itch?” Dean asked in a whisper, guiding Cas’ hand under his shirt. “Show me.”</p><p>For a moment, they were still, Dean’s hand on Cas’ wrist, feeling his pulse pick up under his fingertips. Then, Cas reached down and took Dean’s wrist instead, pressing his palm flat to the skin of his abdomen and sliding it up under the button-up shirt entirely. </p><p>They held their breath, and Dean held back a shudder as he felt, for the first time, the smooth, warm skin of Cas’ stomach. Cas’ hands were gentle as he guided the hand over his soft muscles and stopped when the shirt was hitched up around their joined hands, and Dean’s palm was pressed flat against his heart. “Here.”</p><p>Dean felt Castiel’s beating, human heart thump quickly and breathed, “Okay.”</p><p>Then the hand was guided over to the other side, and Cas’ nipple—small, taught, raised—pressed against Dean’s fingertips. Cas’ eyelashes fluttered. “And then here.”</p><p>“Where else?” Dean asked.</p><p>His hand traveled over Cas’ chest, then down his sternum. Dean’s fingers glided over the clean, hot skin of Cas’ ribs, then over his stomach. Dean felt the beginnings of sparse, coarse hair on the heel of his palm. </p><p>“And then more here, stronger.” </p><p>How was it possible that Cas’ voice could get more rough?</p><p>Dean was getting hard, his pants tight and restrictive, while his heart beat a mile a minute. He itched for Cas to put his hands on him too, to finally live his fantasies in real life. </p><p>He hadn’t ever touched Cas for this long, or this intimately. He didn’t even really know what Cas looked like under his clothes—the times with the bees was a bit too traumatizing to recall any details. </p><p>He couldn’t believe he was finally touching Cas like this.</p><p>“What about here?” Dean asked, raising his free hand and touching his fingertips to the outside of Cas’ thigh, barely touching, his fingers breathing a whisper into Cas’ skin, up, up, up, over his leg, and sliding up until his hand was wrapped around Cas’ hip, his thumb slotting into the subtle curve there. </p><p>“Yes.” Cas sucked in a breath, his eyes hooded, staring at Dean’s lips.</p><p>Slowly, Dean leaned in and with an upturn of his chin, he brushed their lips together so softly it left the skin there tingling. “What about here?”</p><p>He felt Cas’ mouth move against his when he breathed, “Yes, there too. Especially there.”</p><p>The half-inch of space where their breath mingled was closed when Dean leaned forward and pressed his lips to Cas’, kissing him more tenderly than he ever figured he knew how to. He’d always imagined he’d fall into that kiss, if he’d ever got a chance, but he found that the mere soft touch of their lips together triggered a burst of relief that shuddered through his body like a blast wave, and he couldn’t move.</p><p>They breathed against each other’s skin, and Cas tilted his head, kissing deeper, sliding their lips together more, his mouth opening ever so slightly. Dean’s fingers tightened around Cas’ hip and the hand he had pressed to the softness under Cas’ navel inched downwards, hesitant.</p><p>“Where else?” Dean asked when they broke apart to catch a breath, his eyes transfixed on Cas’ shining bottom lip. </p><p>The material of Cas’ boxer-briefs were soft, but hugged every shape, curve, and dip tightly. His fingers shook around Dean’s hand as he urged it down, farther south, until Dean’s palm was pressed firmly against the hard cock hidden beneath.</p><p>“There,” Castiel finally exhaled, his eyes rolling a bit before they closed. “There. Touch me there.”</p><p>Dean’s wrist freed itself from Cas’ grip and his hand rolled, kneaded, and grasped between Cas’ legs, his own cock filling and pressing desperately against the crotch of his jeans. It was all entirely too much, it had been too long since he’d been with anyone, but he let that fear go freely, allowing it to fade away and evaporate into the space between them. </p><p>“Hold on to my shoulders,” Dean ordered hoarsely, before kissing Cas so fiercely he thought they’d both drown. </p><p>Cas did as he was told, rolling his hips against Dean’s hand and gripping his shoulders tightly in his palms—</p><p>With a grunt, Dean snapped his arms around Cas’ waist, hauling Cas up and around. Cas gasped into his mouth but held on, letting Dean pick him up and send them tumbling roughly onto the carpet. Cas’ back thumped onto the plush rug, while Dean caught himself on his palms, his hands on either side of Cas’ ribs, his hair flopping onto his forehead. </p><p>Cas relaxed back onto the rug, his chest heaving, his legs spread. Dean’s knees bumped the inside of his thighs, and his shoulders raised up and down under Cas’ hands with every gasp of air.</p><p>“Tell me it’s okay,” Dean punched out, his desire leaching from his pores, his eyes stinging with tears of relief, of happiness. “Tell me it’s okay to touch you anywhere, and I will.”</p><p>“It’s okay,” Cas breathed through chattering teeth—maybe he was nervous. He raised his shaking hands off Dean’s shoulders and grasped his face. “It’s more than okay.”</p><p>“Tell me you love me again,” Dean pleaded, blinking the burn of tears from his eyes. </p><p>Cas panted under him and his palms trembled against Dean’s skin. “I love you, Dean.”</p><p>Dean laughed, and it was watery and emotional as fuck but he was so beyond caring. He raised his hand, his palm red and imprinted with the pattern from the rug, and he brushed his thumb over Cas’ bottom lip. “I love you, too.”</p><p>Cas’ breath came out in a hitched exhale—Dean might’ve thought it was a sob if he wasn’t smiling, an overjoyed breathy laugh falling from his lips. “I never thought I’d have this.”</p><p>“You can keep saying that all you want,” Dean panted, lowering himself down, his arm quivering, to peck Cas on the lips. “But you have me and you have this and—you wanna have sex with me or what?”</p><p>Cas answered him by pulling his face down again, his fingers threading through Dean’s hair until he was cupping the back of his head. His moan vibrated against Dean’s lips.</p><p>They relished in just kissing for a couple minutes before Dean planted a firm peck on the corner of Cas’ lips and hoisted himself up, crawling backwards on the rug until he was at Cas’ hips. He sat back on his heels and leaned over, undoing the bottom few buttons of Cas’ shirt until the final one sprung free and the fabric rippled off of Cas’ skin, sliding down his sides to reveal smooth, tanned chest with a smattering of freckles over his sternum and a tattoo on his ribs.</p><p>Cas had a <em> tattoo</em>? Of all the things he might’ve expected, he did not expect that.</p><p>He had an eternity to ask, so Dean simply ran his fingers over it and sucked air into his lungs when Cas visibly shuddered under his touch, his skin rising in goosebumps. It was delicious, and so human; Cas looked so incredibly vulnerable lying on his back, staring up at Dean, and apparently undone by the mere touch of his palm. </p><p>He wondered how he’d react at the touch of his lips, of his tongue?</p><p>Dean discovered, after leaning down and licking a stripe up Cas’ sternum, that Cas reacted loudly. He was very vocal; he inhaled sharply, loudly, and then groaned, pure rasp and gravel and filthy, drawl out moans. Dean drew more of those noises from him by kissing every square inch of his torso, lingering at his nipples, where he hovered at first, licking at his own fingers and dragging the slick fingertips over the brown, taut nipples. Cas gasped, his nails digging into the back of Dean’s head, and for the millionth time in the last thirty minutes, Dean found himself thinking, ‘<em>This is Cas. This is what Cas looks like and sounds like when I touch him. Me.’ </em></p><p>When Dean tugged off his own shirt, he tossed it aside and turned back to Cas, who had pushed himself up on his elbows and was staring, in typical Cas style, without shame. He had his head tilted and that adorable thoughtful expression on his face. Contemplative, hesitant, curious.</p><p>Dean could only sit on his feet and hold his breath when Cas lifted his hand cautiously and reached out, his fingertips dragging over Dean’s throat, then his chest, veering over a bit to finger the curve of his pec, before trailing over the dip in his sternum and over the soft pouch of fat he had under his navel. When his fingers stopped there, Cas’ eyes turned up and met Dean’s gaze again. </p><p>“I did everything,” Castiel whispered, “for you.”</p><p>Dean nodded, finally understanding.</p><p>“And now,” Dean responded, swallowing the lump in his throat and blinking away the sting behind his eyes, “I’m going to do everything for you. What do you want?”</p><p>“You,” Cas replied immediately, his tone steady and assured.</p><p>Dean tilted his head, too, and smiled, his cheeks growing hot. Damn that angel and his undying loyalty, and unwavering love and confidence. The idiot said Dean did everything for love, but clearly, so did Cas. </p><p>“You got me already,” Dean replied, raising a brow. “What else do you want?”</p><p>“I want you to tell me you love me again,” Cas murmured, eyes fluttering like he was anticipating Dean would say this was all a joke and run off. </p><p>It seemed Dean had a lot of work to do to convince the angel—which he would always be, in Dean’s heart—that he was here to stay.</p><p>Dean leaned forward, catching his fall with his hand beside Cas’ hips, and his face an inch away from Cas’, so he could whisper against his lips; “I love you. And I’ll tell you that any time you want; in the morning, at night, when we’re fucking, when we’re fighting, when you’re so pissed at me you’ll wish you could toss me back into Hell—you name it. I’ll tell you until the end of infinity, Cas, but right now, I want you to tell me how you want this—” He reached down and cupped Cas’ cock and balls in his palm, pressing firmly. “—to go.”</p><p>The blue in Castiel’s eyes was so brilliant and bright, despite his pupils blown out and dilated, that the ocean in Paradise over his shoulder looked pale in comparison. “I don’t want to be on the floor anymore, to start.”</p><p>Dean snorted. “Okay, so, the sexy move with the lifting and the making out with you on the ground was a bust, huh?”</p><p>“I would rather bust on the bed,” Castiel replied, deadpan.</p><p>“Wow,” Dean said with a surprised yelp-laugh. He pointed at the bed. “On the bed, now. I won’t tolerate any manner of puns in this house. You should be ashamed of yourself.”</p><p>Cas smirked, raising a brow. “This is my house.”</p><p>“Kinda thought you’d intended for me to live in it?”</p><p>“Yes, but you didn’t—” Cas cut himself off, the good-humour melting off his face, leaving behind wide eyes and a mouth shaped like— “Oh.”</p><p>Dean’s palms started to sweat as he sat back on his heels, and he rubbed at his jeans stretched across his thighs. Irrationally, he wondered if that deal was off the table for some reason and he’d misspoke. “If you want, I—Oof!”</p><p>Dean was nearly knocked back when Cas climbed into his lap, grabbing his face and shutting him right the fuck up with a sloppy, deep kiss that in no universe was Dean opposed to. In fact, the lapful of Castiel created the perfect conditions for him to grab him by the ass and wrap his legs around his waist. Dean grunted into their kiss as he once again found himself lifting Cas off the ground, this time climbing to his feet and stumbling them over to the bed.</p><p>Heaven made a lot of things easy, but Dean was still only relatively fit and had to drop Cas on the edge of the bed when he got too heavy, sinking to his knees on the floor, still attached to the angel by the lips. Cas wasn’t giving up easily either, as he caught Dean’s bottom lip in his teeth and groped blindly at his back and shoulders. Dean was ready to give up trying to break the kiss when Cas beat him to it, leaving his frantic kisses down Dean’s jaw and under his ear. There, he rasped, “Take me from behind.”</p><p>It was all “tell me you love me” until it was “take me from behind”? Dean had whiplash, but the best kind, and found himself laughing a bit hysterically. </p><p>“You want me to plow you from behind?” Dean asked breathlessly, his eyes rolling back as Cas dragged his teeth across his jaw. “For our first time together? I pegged you as the make-love-face-to-face kind guy—”</p><p>“We—” Cas licked at Dean’s adam’s apple. “—have much time for that, but right now—” He kissed at Dean’s face, his breath hot over his temple. “—I’m very aroused and want to be as close to you as I can.”</p><p>“Don’t have to tell me twice,” Dean panted, yanking Cas off the bed and back onto his lap,  grabbing him by the shoulder and shoving him onto his front so Cas was partially on the bed, his elbows on the edge, his knees on the floor, his back to Dean. Dean’s fingers trembled as they fumbled to undo his pants and yank them off; thankfully Cas had his back turned, too busy sliding his white shirt off his arms and flinging it aside to see Dean struggle behind him.</p><p>“Lube? Do we even need lube in Heaven?”</p><p>“Bathroom—and of <em> course </em> we require lubricant, Dean.”</p><p><em> ‘You horny idiot’ </em>was implied at the end. Dean ran to the bathroom, nearly sliding on the blue rug by the sink. “Where?!”</p><p>“Shower!”</p><p>Dean smirked as he yanked the rubber ducky shower curtain aside to find a bottle of lube already opened and used. He tossed it in the air and caught it, turning back towards the bedroom. “Explains the excessive showering.”</p><p>He strode back into the bedroom, his insides feeling like he was vibrating, lube in his hand, and a tent in his boxers. He dropped down behind Cas again, dragging his eyes up over the round curve of Cas’ ass through the black boxer-briefs, and admiring the dimples in his lower back and the angular, smooth curve of his spine, and—</p><p>Cas’ face, looking over his shoulder, was smiling that pure and content smile like he’d done the first time he’d told Dean he loved him. </p><p>“Nervous?” Dean asked, his hands shaking. He squeezed the bottle to try and steady himself. </p><p>“Not at all,” Cas replied simply. “I trust you.”</p><p>Fuck him for being so heartfelt. Dean smiled back and murmured, “I’m nervous. A little. Haven’t… Haven’t, uh, done this in a while.”</p><p>“I imagine it’s straight forward.” Cas shrugged. “You penetrate me, we move in tandem while maintaining and strengthening our intimate bond, and then we orgasm.”</p><p>His heart growing a hundred times its size, because of <em> course </em>Castiel would say that, Dean leaned forward and wrapped his arms around Cas’ ribs, hugging him and resting his cheek on Cas’ shoulder blades. “Wow, I love you, you big idiot. If only it was that easy.”</p><p>“Is it not?” </p><p>Dean could practically hear the head tilt and it only made his chest feel more euphoric and warm with affection. “No, but I can make it easier.”</p><p>With that, he set the bottle of lube on the floor and lifted himself off Cas, sliding his hands down Cas’ sides until they were cupping his hips. Gently, he urged the hips off the floor so Cas was on his knees. Then, with equal care, Dean breathed through his mouth to calm his nerves and slid the snug underwear off Cas’ ass.</p><p>He licked his lips once, spread the round globes apart, his fingers digging into the tight ass, and lowered himself enough to drag his tongue over Cas’ tight hole. Cas buckled a bit, sucking in air with surprise, but didn’t move. With complete trust, Dean felt Cas relax, the muscles of his back shifting and then smoothing over when Cas lowered his head to the bed. Knowing he had Cas’ full confidence, he picked up the pieces of his courage and licked again, this time committing and burying his face in the cleft of Cas’ ass.</p><p>Soon, his face was slick with spit, his mouth sweet with the musky, fresh taste of Cas’ body wash, and Cas’ thighs trembled under his stroking hand. Blindly, Dean was massaging the tip of Cas’ cock, spreading pre-come over the head and jerking him off with saliva he’d spit into his hand. It wasn’t romantic and candle-lit love making, but it was very <em> them </em>; heated and raw. Honest and intense.</p><p>Cas was earnest in his reactions, gasping and writhing without holding back. He panted Dean’s name as he got tongue fucked within an inch of his life, his hole wet and loose from being penetrated by fingers and tongue alike. Dean’s mouth felt aching and raw in the best way, as he flicked, tongue-fucked, and licked, his hand snapping from Cas’ legs to his own cock, freeing it from his boxers to stroke with quick flicks of his wrist.</p><p>“You have to stop,” Cas choked out. “Stop, Dean.”</p><p>Entirely out of breath, his jaw aching, Dean lifted himself to his knees and gasped, “You okay?”</p><p>“I’ll orgasm if you keep going,” Cas’s breathes were harsh and wheezing. “I can feel it.”</p><p>To his amusement (and increasing arousal), Dean noticed with the novel viewpoint, that Cas had been tugging so hard on the bed cover in front of him that they were entirely yanked out from under the mattress, gathered under Cas’ head. When Cas looked over his shoulder at Dean, Dean could only grin back at him, beaming with pride, particularly for the way Cas was red in the face, sweat gathered at his temples.</p><p>They held each other’s gaze, and Dean’s grin faded with the tickle of amusement, leaving behind an intense feeling that something huge was about to happen. </p><p>“You have me,” Dean reminded Cas, noticing the spark of fear behind the hooded blue eyes. </p><p>With a nod, Cas turned back around, bracing himself on the bed, and Dean took the cue. Shuffling forward on his knees, Dean took his cock in one hand, pressing the tip against Cas’ flushed, shining, waiting hole. In his other hand, he held Cas’ shoulder.</p><p>And then, with one last mantra of <em> this is it </em>, he pushed forward and entered his angel, the love of his life, and sunk in, one careful moment after another where he watched Cas’ back tense up, then relax, then shift again. It was only when his head lifted and tilted back, paired with a long, slow groan, did Dean bottom out and release his own held exhale, the sound trembling. </p><p>“A-Are you okay, Cas? Are you okay?” he asked, his teeth chattering, staring down at Cas stretched and shining around his cock. The nerves coiled in his stomach vibrated through his arms and shoulders, contrasting with the building, writhing heat between his legs that coursed up through his shaft buried tightly in Cas.</p><p>Cas just reached back, hand grasping blindly, and Dean was right there immediately, intertwining his fingers and folding forward as Cas tugged him close. Their foreheads met when Cas turned his face, and their bodies melted together, Dean’s chest to Cas’ back. It was only when Dean slid his hips away and Cas arched his spine did they separate, though they met again soon after when Dean drove his hips forward again and Cas pushed back up to meet him. </p><p>Everything about them, everywhere their bodies met, was hot and tight, and soon the room was filled with the sounds of wet kissing, intelligible whispered words into skin, and flesh clapping. For someone who wanted to be railed from behind, by the end, Cas was twisted at the waist, his arm around Dean’s neck, holding their faces together. </p><p>Dean would’ve gotten no warning that Cas was coming if he hadn’t been face-to-face. The angel’s face tensed and he surged forward, their noses bumping, and Cas captured Dean’s lips, his cry muffled and hoarse. Dean swallowed the exclamation greedily, feeling Cas shaking beneath him with a magnificent, beautiful release, and picking up the pace as he milked Cas’ heavy cock dry. </p><p>“Fuck, Sunshine. Yeah, come for me, Sweetheart.”</p><p>It had come out by accident, the pet name, particularly the latter. He might deny it later, but in the moment it felt so right, and Cas responded with a soft, whimpering noise against his lips. If Dean felt a hot tear slide down Cas’ cheek and mingle between their joined lips, Dean didn’t mention it. His own eyes were hot and damp, and he’d later say the small pre-orgasm gasp was a gasp of pleasure and certainly not an overwhelmed, emotional gasp about the realization that they were safe, they were free, and they were together, finally.</p><p>He came with that thought in his mind, along with; <em> ‘I love you, I love you—’ </em></p><p>They’d been silenced before by circumstances bigger than them, by puppet strings controlled by the ghost of Dean’s father, and Chuck, and the old Heaven; Cas had, Dean had. But now? There was no reason to whisper the words silently to himself.</p><p>“I love you,” Dean breathed through trembling lips, and Cas responded immediately, choking out, “I love you, too.”</p><p>The silence had no power over them; not anymore.</p><hr/><p>Shortly after they’d picked themselves up off the floor, Cas had been ushered to the bathroom and ordered to clean up; Dean didn’t explain why in detail, but he knew that kind of sex always required some extra thorough clean-up and he left Cas to figure it out.</p><p>Dean took the alone time to get dressed and haul open the heavy sliding glass door to the balcony. Warm, fresh ocean air hit his nose as he noticed the breeze coming from the direction of the shore through the trees. He watched waves curl up onto the sand. He leaned on the railing, looking around the top of the forest with its lush green canopy, and he took in the mountains off in the distance, wondering what the summits looked like. He’d have to check them out with Cas some time. </p><p>In his pocket, Robert Plant shrieked a few lines of <em> Good Times, Bad Times. </em>Dean tugged his phone from his jeans and turned over the screen, smiling when Sam’s dumb face scrolled across the screen. He tapped the green button and lifted the receiver to his ear. </p><p>“Hey, Sammy.”</p><p>“Dean,” Sam said excitedly. “Jack just came by. Eileen is here, or, I mean, she’ll be here soon! Any minute now.”</p><p>Dean grinned, thrilled, but confused. “What the hell? I saw you like fifteen minutes after I showed up here, but it took Eileen two weeks to die? What does that make her, like two thousand years old, Earth 1 time?”</p><p>“What? No! I mean, I dunno—Does it matter?” Despite his words, Sam still sounded over the moon with joy. “She’s coming. Dean, she’s coming.”</p><p>“Dude, time is weird up here,” Dean went on, still on the time-thing. “I can’t figure it out.”</p><p>Sam hummed. “I think… I think the time moves as fast as you need it to, y’know?”</p><p>Recalling the ache in Dean’s chest when he’d arrived, thinking he’d be up here without Sam, he understood. Maybe Sam just needed a bit of time to get to know his mom and dad.</p><p>“Yeah,” Dean agreed. “You’re probably right. Y’always are. So what, she’s gonna show up at the Roadhouse?”</p><p>“I think so. I’m going to pick her up.”</p><p>“Nice. Gonna bring her home to meet mom and dad? Dinner’s in an hour.”</p><p>“Yeah, of course. You gonna be there?”</p><p>Turning around to rest his back against the railing and gaze into the house, Dean spotted Cas emerge from the bathroom, padding around in his underwear. Affection blossomed in his heart as he watched Cas go back to scowling at his lint-y pants. He smiled. “Yeah. I’m bringing Cas.”</p><p>“Nice! Eileen will be glad to see him, and—Cas hasn’t been ‘round the house yet, has he?”</p><p>“Not officially, I don’t think.” Dean’s smile tipped into a crooked grin as Cas abandoned the pants and moved on to sliding a flannel over his shoulders. Dean didn’t think he’d ever get tired of watching Cas walk around in an open button down and those fitted boxer-briefs. He might have to put in an official request that Cas wear nothing else around the house. “But I think it’s important he’s there tonight.”</p><p>“Why?”</p><p>“He should be there when I tell mom and dad I’m moving out.”</p><p>Sam was silent.</p><p>“Sammy? You there?”</p><p>With a bratty smile in his voice, Sam chuckled, “Yeah, I’m here. You finally worked it out. With him.”</p><p>How the fuck did he know? Maybe Dean had been on to something weeks back; everyone knew. Maybe Jack had said something. Maybe that Jimmy Novak had run his mouth. Still, regardless of how he knew, Dean didn’t bother denying it, not when Sam sounded so pleased. “Yeah, Sammy, I did.”</p><p>“We did it, huh, Dean?” Sam said suddenly. “We’re in Heaven. For real.”</p><p>Cas caught Dean’s eye as he tugged jeans over his hips, and his face split into a beaming smile. Dean returned the expression, his heart bursting into a million, joyous pieces, gratitude and contentment filling him entirely. </p><p>“We did it, Sammy. We’re in Heaven,” he agreed, nodding his head. “And it is perfect.”</p>
  </div><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_foot_notes"><b>Notes for the Chapter:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
          <p>Hope you enjoyed my 15.20 fix-it fic/coda! </p><p>Please let me know what you think in the comments, and if you loved it, please subscribe, as I will be continuing this story in a series. You thought I was gonna leave it with some sweet love confessions and bumping-uglies? Hahah, no, no, no. Adventure and shenanigans to follow; the Empty is still out there! </p><p>NEVER LETTING YOU GO, SPN, YOU SEXY MOFO.</p>
        </blockquote></div></div>
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